Secrets
by Future Memory
Summary: World says children know nothing about love, but what does the world know about children? Some things are too good to be kept a secret. P.S this is not a love story, this is a story about love.
1. Chapter 1

**STEFAN'S POV**

_1851. Atlanta, Georgia. Ten in the morning. The street is crowded with people. Coaches are making their way through the crowd. People are unwilling to move, so the horses are annoyed, and nervous. I can see it in their eyes. They're angry, or maybe sad. I do not know, I am too young to know, and no one has time, or will, to explain it to me. I am sad too, and I wonder are my eyes the same as the hoarse's, but I can't see my eyes, so I'll never know. I could look in the mirror, but I am too scared, because Tyler Lockwood told me if you meet your look in the mirror, your soul will get trapped inside of it. Even though I've never seen my soul, I'm very fond of it, because I can feel it circling inside of me. Mother taught me how. Close your eyes, and think about the thing that makes you the happiest. Now imagine that thing being taken away from you. Do you feel that? Your body shattering, every bone in your body breaking? That is your soul trying to fight its way out of your body, to follow the thing that got taken away from you, since the soul feeds on happiness. If you learn how to concentrate, you will be able to feel your soul, always. _

_There are children playing on the street, and some are dressed in rags. I wish I could give them some of my clothes since I have far too many, even on me now because father had overdressed me and I'm sweating underneath my coat. But father told me not to talk to them, and to ignore them if they ask for money. _

_Father left me and Damon in front of a building he went in, he said the place is far too depressing for two young boys. I'm not young, I'm four already, and in few years I'll marry Caroline Forbes, or so she says. I never actually agreed to marrying her, but I like Caroline, even though she is chatty and always bosses me around. Damon says all women boss men around, so if I'll end up being bossed around by someone anyway, I'd rather be bossed around by Caroline than some other girl. _

_Damon is squeezing my hand. My cheeks are slightly red, I can feel them burning, and my eyes are puffy. There's a trace of tears on my cheeks, and it burns my skin like acid. I know I'm sad, but if anyone asked me why, I'd not know how to answer them. No one notices I'm crying anyway._

_It's silent in the house for two days now already. Mother fell asleep and she doesn't want to wake up. Father says she never will wake up, but I find that rather silly. Everyone have to wake up sometime. Once, I slept for too long, and I woke up tired, which was funny to me. How can you wake up tired? Sleep is supposed to make you feel rested. If mother is anything like me, when she finally wakes up she will be tired too, since she's sleeping for two day now already. Caroline told me her dad went to sleep too, when she was a baby, and he never woke up. They had put him in a box and lowered him in the ground, and every once in a while, they go to where they had put him, and they make a prayer, and her mother cries. I told her to stop talking nonsense, because if they had put him in the ground, how will they know when he wakes up? _

_I do not know why I'm sad, though. Probably because Damon refuses to talk to me, and father keeps saying mother will never wake up, and I really want her to wake up because she has to continue telling me my bedtime story about a prince from India who had an elephant for a pet and fell in love with the most beautiful girl in the world. No one knows that story but her. _

_Or maybe I'm crying because I feel like my soul is fighting its way out of my body._

_All of a sudden, a girl appears in front of me. She's also four. Her soul told me so, and I don't think souls can lie. Soul is a well of honesty. Her cheeks are rosy red, her eyes locked on mine, and her thin lips pulled into a light smile. She's wearing a hat, so I can't see the color of her hair, but I'd like to. She's also wearing a low, red coat, under which hides a beautiful, baby blue hoopskirt. She reaches for the pocket of her coat and pulls a handkerchief with a floral pattern out of it, and gives it to me. She doesn't say anything, she simply stretches her arm out to me and keeps it there until I take a handkerchief out of her hand._

_She's a complete stranger to me, but I think our souls are friends, because as soon as I looked into her eyes, I could have felt my soul playing a most beautiful melody inside of my body. I wonder can she feel her soul too, and can she tell that her soul wants to intertwine with mine. Her soul begs me to take her, but it doesn't work that way. She has to give her soul to me, willingly. _

_I do not know her, but I think I love her. Because she had noticed me crying, she's the only one who did. And until she did, I haven't realized how much I wanted someone to notice my tears. I bring the handkerchief closer to my face, and wipe the trail of my tears off my cheek. When I finish, and take the handkerchief off my face, she's gone. I can see her running away in another direction, and fall into her mother's arms. I know it's her mother because only a mother could hold her child like that._

_My soul is fighting its way out of my body. Only now, I do not know in which direction it wants to go._

I wake up from a pleasant dream, a dream I've been dreaming for years now. About a girl I've met twelve years ago when my father had left me and my brother in front of a building in which he went to buy a coffin to bury my mother. I always dream of her as a child, since I do not know her name, or where she's from, or how does she look like, but my age often varies. Sometimes, I try to turn her childlike features to those of a young woman, but I am afraid my imagination can't quite capture her true beauty. I haven't seen her forever since, or maybe I have, but did not know it's her. I wonder would my soul play the same way it did if I ever meet her again. I haven't felt my soul for quite some time now, I think I forgot how to concentrate.

I glance at the alarm clock on my bedside table and realize, if I do not hurry, I will be late for breakfast. Thick, olive curtains are drawn all over my windows, and when I remove them, after I climb out of the bed, my face is attacked by strong beams of sun. I have a hard time getting used to spring and it's joys after a long, cold winter. I am pleasantly surprised.

I get dressed in a hurry, wearing the first thing I saw when I opened my closet. My pants do not match my button up shirt which collar is turned upside down. I do not look as a grown up man, more as a playful boy. And in reality I'm somewhere in the middle, even though I feel more like one than the other.

I open the door of my bedroom, and I can hear Mrs. Pierce's loud laughter coming from downstairs. I head to the stairs, and when I reach the last step, I can see Katherine and her mother sitting by our table in the dining room, father telling some story with his face as hard as stone, face he wears for as long as I can remember, but Mrs. Pierce is laughing hysterically.

I can't even hear what my father is talking about, because I am breath taken by Katherine's beauty. Her big, brown locks are touching her apple red cheeks, jumping on her shoulders, taunting me. There's always a devilish smirk on her face, and her lips look poisonous. Her skin is surreal, it looks like it's made out of glass. Sometimes I think Katherine really is made out of glass, because her posture is solid and hard, but at times, when you look at her more carefully, she looks like she's going to break any minute now. I am to be engaged to Katherine. Nothing is official, but I should propose to her in a year time with my mother's ring. I'd much rather marry Caroline than Katherine, like she said we would when we were kids, even though she is my best friend and the thought of kissing her on the lips is making me sick.

Katherine is beautiful, but I could never love her. My soul doesn't want to intertwine with hers, nor does it court her soul with a beautiful melody. It is true that I haven't felt my soul for a long time now, but I always believed when I meet the girl I'm going to marry, my soul would wake up. I remember my soul used to play when I was around Caroline when we were growing up, but it was a different kind of melody, one that had nothing to do with romance. It provided me with the feeling of safety, closeness and understanding.

I know Katherine enjoys my company, but I think she preferres Damon better than me. Of course, every girl likes his rough lines and bad boy attitude better than my childlike features and a good son behavior.

"Mr. Salvatore," Katherine exclaims after she finally notices my presence when I come into the room. I nod at her politely and smile at both her and her mother, while my father looks displeased my presence has got in the middle of his story, so instead of wishing me good morning, he looks at me sharply before he continues talking and Mrs. Pierce goes back to laughing hysterically.

I can feel Katherine's look on me. She's always so playful, especially in the morning. I've promised her I'd take her for a walk around the garden today, and that we will sit on a stone bench near the query so she can tell me everything about her adventures in all girls boarding school she just came back from last week.

"And when is the other brother coming home?" Mrs. Pierce asks, and I swear, I can see Katherine's eyes sparkle at the mention of my brother. Damon is serving as a solider in Civil War, and I haven't seen him for quite some time, even though he writes me as often as he can.

"Stefan, have you received any news from your brother?" father mutters at me, and Damon's name sounds so cold coming out of his mouth. Damon and father could never see eye to eye, and Damon's rebellious nature only made it worse. Damon hates taking orders, especially if they're coming from our father, and he likes to take matter into his own hands.

I, on the other hand, never had a problem when it came to dealing with my brother. We would always get along so well. The only problem was, Damon did not like Caroline very much, but then again, Caroline never liked him either. He used to say, when we were kids, that I should not be playing with a girl, but I never minded Caroline being a girl, nor did I understand why did he not like me playing with her. Now I see he found it more appropriate for me to play with other boys, but I've never got along with them well.

I shake my head. "No, I haven't heard from him in a month," I say honestly. I am not worried, because I know he's busy, and they do move a lot, and when he has time, he will write to me. But father frowns, and Mrs. Pierce sighs. I look at Katherine, and her look is lowered, but when she feels my look on her being, she raises hers up and smiles at me gently.

In that moment, Jenna walks in the room, carrying my breakfast to me. She puts a plate with toast, crispy bacon and two eggs in front of me, and it is then when I realize I am not even that hungry. Her look falls down my body, and she looks significantly in the direction of my pants. My look follows hers, and I see a handkerchief sticking out of the pocket of my pants. Yes, the same handkerchief that little girl gave me twelve years ago. I kept it because to me, it has some significance, but only Jenna and Caroline know about its existence, really.

I silently thank Jenna after putting the handkerchief deeper into my pocket, as I'd be embarrassed if someone notices I'm wearing a handkerchief with floral pattern around.

I expect Jenna to leave the room now, but she doesn't. Instead, she walks around my chair and stands near my father, saying, "Mr. Salvatore, could I have a word with you?" she asks with a shaky voice, and I instantly wonder what's wrong.

I remember when Jenna first came to our house. She was so young, and now her face is worn out. Her skin was pale, and now her cheeks are rosy and chubby. Her hands are sharp and red, but six years ago, when she came to us, her skin was as smooth as silk. She came to us after Mrs. Charity, our last maid, passed away. She came from a wealthy family, but she stayed pregnant out of wedlock. Father of the baby, Mr. Saltzman, who's a little bit older than her, married her, but everyone already knew she's pregnant, which was a huge disgrace for her family. So they have disinherited her.

"Of course" - father says before leaning into his chair.

"As you know, my sister and her husband passed away recently," she starts, fixing the ruffles of her black skirt with her long fingers, "Their son was sent to all boys boarding school, but their daughter, she has nowhere to go," Jenna locks her eyes on the eyes of my father, "She has no access to the money her parents had left her until she's 18, which is not for two more years. So I was wondering - "

"Can she stay here," father interrupts her in the middle of her sentence. I can see Jenna swallow. Sure, there's enough room, but father hates having strangers in the house. He can barely get used to having people he cares about here.

There's silence in the room.

I know what happens to the girls who lose their parents at the age Jenna's niece did, and father knows it very well too. They have a hard time finding a suitor because they're orphans, and if they do find one, he's not the best option. If they do not find one, they end up working as housemaids.

"Can she work?" father finally asks.

Jenna looks at him surprised. "No," she says honestly as she shakes her head, "but she can learn."

"Nonsense," I say finally. I rarely stand up to my father, but when I do, he knows there are solid reasons behind it. Now, I do not know why I'm standing up for this girl I've never met, but I feel sorry for her. I want to help her. "She never worked a day in her life," I say, trying to picture Caroline or Katherine having to do house jobs if they ever had a misfortune of losing their parents, and I'm unable to. I think Katherine would rather die than live like that. "She can study with me, finish what she had started," I say, hoping father will accept my offer.

"And when the summer comes?" father asks, and I can seee he's suspicious of the idea.

"I am prepared to spend my time with her," it's not like I have anything better to do, plus it would be nice to have a new and fresh face around here. Maybe a new friend, even. Not that Caroline is not enough, I'm sure Caroline would love to have a new friend too.

Father is pondering on the idea. I can see it on his face, as his forehead wrinkles. Jenna is looking at him nervously, and I am looking at him hopefully. I really do hope he says yes. I have no idea why am I so excited about this. A smile creeps on my face, and I can feel Katherine's judgmental eyes on me.

Father releases a loud sigh. "Very well," he responds, "When is she supposed to arrive?" his face is still hard.

"This weekend," Jenna responds, happiness evident on her face.

"Make the preparations then," father responds seriously.

"Thank you, sir, thank you so much," Jenna yells happily before running out of the room on her heels.

I feel like I've accomplished something. I also begin to wonder how sad she must be, and is her soul trying to fight its way out of her body. Is she sad as I was when my mother fell asleep? Of course, now I know she actually passed away, and when I realized the true meaning of death, I apologized to Caroline for calling her silly.

I'm still sad because I never found out the ending of that story, but I think the Indian prince found a way to be with the girl he loved.

**ELENA'S POV**

I am riding in my coach towards the house I'm supposed to live in for the two following years. I'm very grateful they've let Bonnie come with me. Even though it is only because their opinion is that every young lady should have a maid, but Bonnie is more of a friend to me than she is my maid. She's also the only thing I have left of my old life.

Since mother and father died, I've barely eaten anything. I do not feel like eating, or smiling, or talking. I do not need strangers coming to me, saying everything will be okay, because nothing is ever going to be okay from this moment on. My parents are dead, how is that okay? But my family is influential, and I was raised as a lady, so I have to smile and shake their hands and receive their hugs and pitiful looks, as well as words. And all I really want to do is scream. All the time. I want to scream in their faces, and when I'm alone, I even want to scream while I'm sleeping. But I'm not allowed to scream, because I'm a lady. Screaming is for savages, for those who do not know how to use words as a device of communication. But in a way, aren't all of us savages?

This war, because of which I've lost both of my parents, proves that.

They took my brother away. He's only fourteen, still a boy, and they've ripped him away from everything he knows. He's been through a tragedy, and by taking him away from me, only family he has left, they have heightened that tragedy. I most likely won't see him for two years, which makes me incredibly unhappy.

How unhappy can I be, really? I think I've become numb to pain. But I do not want to test it, I have no desire to prove myself wrong.

They've contacted my aunt, aunt I did not even know I have. It is so cruel, what my family did to her, and it made me incredibly sad to know my mom was able to let her sister go like that. I wonder did she have any say in the matter, or was she hurt by her sister being taken away from her as I'm hurt by my brother being taken away from me.

It was so nice of Mr. Salvatore to take me in. I've heard he's not the friendliest person, not since his wife passed away twelve years ago. Which is fine, since I've also been told I won't even see him around that much. He has two sons, Damon and Stefan, if I remember correctly. Damon is serving in the army, and Stefan is my age. He will be the one I'll spend the most of my time with.

I do not know how I feel about this. I feel like he's been assigned to babysit me, even though I've heard it was his suggestion, because his father wanted to take me as a maid.

Stefan sounds rather boring, to be honest. His name sounds boring, and his idea about us studying together is boring. I am grateful to him, to all of them, but I will spend next two years of my life washed with sadness, and pain, and missing my brother, I do not want to be bored too. Too bad Damon is in the army, he sounds fun. More fun than Stefan, at least.

I look through the window, and nature around here is beautiful. I've always preferred nature to the urban environment. The city I grew up in is too big, and too loud, and too crowded. There were a lot of poor people, and I always felt sorry for them, but I was not allowed to talk with them, or to help them, which made me even more sad. I never understood why I'm not supposed to help others since I have more than I need and they have less than they need.

There is something magical about the nature, about big endless meadows, and sunflowers almost as big as you. There is nothing scary about living near the forest, going to sleep while the owls are singing, and waking up to the song of a rooster. That is the only thing I'm looking forward to, honestly. Fresh air, strong sun, clean water. I do not need anything else. Could I survive without a human contact for two years?

"Here we are," Bonnie says, and I look through her side of the window. There's a mansion roaring in front of us. Big white house, blue door, white blinds and windows, huge porch with columns, and a swing, and pots of flowers. I guess their estate is huge, since I can't see another house nearby.

The coach stops in front of the house, and Bonnie opens the door. She hops out of the coach and stand there while coachman gets from his position to help me get out of the coach. After I step on the ground, I can feel someone throwing their arms around my neck and pulling me into a hug. This must be my aunt. I put my arms on her back and give her a hug.

"How rude of me," she says as she pulls away from me, which is when I get a better look of her. She looks like my mother, especially when she was younger. Same hair color, same eyes, same little nose I've also inherited, thick lips I did not have a fortune of inheriting. I can imagine her skin was smooth and her face gentle before she started working as a maid. But she seems happy. I do not know is she happy in general or because she has finally met me, but I do hope she's happy in general. I think my mother would have wished the same, even if she had something with banishing my aunt from the family, which I really do not want to think about. I do not want to think about my mother badly in her death. "You probably do not even know who I am," she smiles tiredly at me.

"Of course I do," I say, wondering is she not aware of the resemblance in looks she shares with my mother. "I'm Elena," I take the fabric of my skirt in between my fingertips and bow down, like they had taught me from early childhood.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Elena" - she says as her eyes glisten.

"Likewise," - I really am glad I've met my family, but I do not know how much longer can I keep this smile on my face before it becomes obvious it's fake.

Then, I notice a young man standing behind my aunt. He's more of a boy than a man, but nevertheless, he is very beautiful. He is not like one of those city boys, messy and smugly, smoking cigars and throwing insults out of their sleeves. No, his hair is combed very tidy, and it reminds me of honey. It is brown with strains of gold, a hair that is basically beginning you to pull your fingers through it, although something tells me he would not let anyone touch his hair. I doubt anyone ever asked him to touch his hair, and maybe I'm the first weirdo thinking about it. His eyes are emerald green, and they're shinning a certain kind of bright out of them. They're so familiar, but yet so distant. Maybe they're part of my past, of my future, because they're too kind and too friendly to be only part of my present. His face is warm, and there's a light smile pulled across it.

I am sure my aunt can see me staring at the boy, but he is staring at me as well. She turns around and smiles to him. "Elena," my aunt says, stepping aside, "Let me introduce you to Stefan Salvatore," his name rolls down her tongue like he's her biggest pride and joy.

That is Stefan? Boy with a face of a man and smile of a child, eyes of an angel, and to me it seems like his lips are covered with sugar. If only I could have a taste. I never tasted anyone's lips before, nor did I want to. Not until now. I look at his clothes, and he's dressed rather clumsy, but I like it. It suits him. The ruffles on his shirt and his slightly twisted collar.

Well, he does not look boring at all. And all of a sudden, his name doesn't sound boring either.

He makes a step forward and stretches his hand out to me. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Gilbert," someone has done their homework, I think to myself, surprised with his knowledge of my last name.

I squeeze his hand in mine, and I can feel this surge of energy between us. "Pleasure is all mine, Mr. Salvatore," I smile as I notice him looking at me like I'm out of this world.

Maybe I won't be as bored here as I initially thought.

**STEFAN'S POV**

She looks nothing like the girls in Mystic Falls. Nothing like the girls I grew up with. Even though every one of them is exceptionally beautiful, from my best friend Caroline to my future bride, and as I think of those words a knot appears in my stomach, Katherine, there is something about Elena that makes her beauty special. Extraordinary. Spectacular.

Girls here usually wear their hair tied up in some way, so their face, and neck, are clear. Their skin is tanned all the way through the year, cheeks chubby and rosy, lips full, and their body curvy. Elena has none of those things. Her long, brown, straight hair is sprawled all over her back, glued to her cheeks and swan like neck. There are little bows in her hair to remind people she's still a child. Her eyes are big, like two marbles, looking at me like she expected less, so now, she's pleasantly surprised. She is very pale, and her cheeks are dry. Her lips thin and long, and she is very skinny. The dress she's wearing slides down her body, showing her collar bones, skinny graceful arms, there's lace over her breasts and her hoopskirt is starting not at the end of her waist, but where her little, round hips end.

I wonder does every girl in the city looks like this, and no matter how much the thought seems logical, I refuse to believe anyone looks like this. Because she seems special. To me, she is special, and even if every girl in the city is a carbon copy of her, to me, she's one of a kind.

Her eyes ram all over my body, and my to the same. I notice her eyes are locked on my lips a little longer than they should be, so I blush.

I make a step forward and greet her. I give her my hand, even though I'd much rather pull her into a hug to feel her whole body pressing next to mine. The skin of her hand should be fine for now. And it is fine, more than fine, especially when our skin finally meets, and I feel like I've been electrocuted.

I think she felt it too, because her eyes glisten as she looks into mine.

"Shall we go inside?" I ask with a smile on my face, "My father is anticipation to meet you."

She smiles at me, little devilishly, takes the fabric of her skirt in between her fingers to lift it of the ground, and walks past by me. Little black girl with coal, black hair and deep brown eyes, who is probably her maid, follows her.

If I knew her all my life, I'd probably follow her like that too.

I want to follow her now.

**xxxx**

**Hey guys, we meet again :D Anyway, this is my new story, as you can see, and it is placed in 1864. I really wanted to try to write something in the first person, so here it is. It will be from Stefan and Elena's point of view, even though I will most likely, from time to time, present you with point of you of some other character's, probably Damon's, once I finally decide who will be his love interest, since I'm still between two options. Stefan and Elena's relationship in this story will be a little bit different, but of course, I will try to capture the true essence of their love, like I always do, like, I believe, everyone try to do when they write a story, no matter which direction their relationship takes. I will also alternate their characters a little, as I'm going to write Stefan as a boy he was before he was turned, but of course, his main traits will remain. And I promise Elena won't be Katherine like, if that's what you thought.**

**I hope you like how I started this story, and I hope you give it a chance.**

**Love you all!**


	2. Chapter 2

**ELENA'S POV**

The house really is wonderful. It has seven bedrooms, one of which is mine, in the middle of Stefan's, and Damon's room. They were so generous to give me one of the biggest bedrooms in the house. The floor is covered with dark, cherry hardwood, and in the saloon and the living room, there's a beautiful carpet with Egyptian motives. The color of the walls varies from room to room. Hallways have dark, olive wallpapers, while the dining room is baby blue, as well as the living room. My favorite room in the house is the ball room, though, and its walls are covered with white wallpapers which have floral pattern. There's a beautiful fireplace on one of the walls, and in the middle of the ceiling there's an enormous, crystal chandelier. The windows stretch from the bottom to the top of the wall, and over them there are beautiful silky dark blue curtains.

I love dancing. I've been attending dance classes since I was a child, and when I finally turned fourteen, I went to my first ball. Dancing is something I really enjoy doing, it makes me feel so relaxed, so light, like a feather. It is amazing, how through dance, a sequence of coordinate movements, you can synchronize with another person completely. Mother was a big fan of dancing too, and she told me the first time she danced with father, she wanted him to lead her through the dance of life. He did. He danced with her for more than sixteen years I'm on this planet, and in the end, they've danced off in flames together. I always miss my parents, but moments like these, when I think about the future, is when I miss them the most. When I realize my mother won't be here to give me advice when it comes the time to marry, and my father won't be here to walk me down the aisle and give me away, and neither of them will be here to see my children.

But I know they would want me to continue dancing, even though they're not here cheering me through it. My father's clap was the loudest at my first ball, none of the other fathers clapped as hard as him.

I wish I could work, though. I wish I could change someone's life with my passion, I wish I could spend my whole life dancing, until my legs turn into jello, and until my back is too sore to continue. I wish I could show someone the magic of movements on the dance floor. But they have always told me that is for old maids, and that I should marry young, have children and run the household. I never understood why can't I do both, but I also never argued. I tend to keep my thoughts to myself, as I never found someone who would willingly accept my rebelliousness towards the society we live in.

Maybe I will find husband selfless enough who won't mind me dancing for others too.

Men are so fickle, almost like animals. They have to mark their territory, and if they see someone thinking about stepping over their boundaries they turn into uncivilized warriors. Women are more understanding than that, I hope so, at least.

When I met Mr. Salvatore, he expressed his remorse for the loss of my parents, and complimented my beauty. It was very kind of him, but completely unneeded. I do not consider myself ugly, but then again, I do not consider anyone ugly, except those who are ugly from the inside. Sometimes you can see in person's eyes how muddy their soul is. I do not believe anyone can determine limits of beauty, since beauty is in the eye of a beholder. What I consider beautiful, one may consider ugly, but unfortunately, people are sheep, so they blindly follow opinions of majority, especially if that majority is of a respected lineage.

I do not understand why they describe him as unfriendly, he was friendly enough to me. I simply think he was struck by a great sorrow that will stand by him for a lifetime. I wonder will it happen to me too, will the loss of my parents determine the way people describe me to those who yet have to meet me. I do not want to be described as unfriendly simply because I'm sad. Unfriendly sounds so inhumane, and sadness is a human emotion.

But they were right when they told me he's not around much, which seems to sadden Stefan, because when his father leaves, he's left alone. No mother, no brother, no father. In a way, he's much of an orphan as I am, so I'm glad we can keep each other company.

I must say, I was completely wrong about Stefan. He's not boring at all, he's simply different. Not from the boys I've met during my time in the city, but from people in general. There's something about him that warms me from the inside. He makes my insides twist and turn, but not in a bad way. It feels like magic, if such thing exists. It's been two days and I can't seem to forget the surge of energy that cursed through me as I shook his hand. It was unbelievably strong, strong enough for him to feel it too.

There's something about his eyes. I know it sounds rather silly, but they reflect mine so well. It's like looking myself in the mirror. They may be a different color, but it's like he feels what I feel. Sadness, sorrow, pain, happiness, warmth, even love, all mixed together. Oh, there's something about his lips too, something that makes me want to reach for his face and pull his lips on mine only so I can finally see do they taste like honey or sugar cane. What I feel when I look into his eyes is an animal instinct, something I've felt before once or twice, but was confused by it, because it felt wrong, but I enjoyed it. But he feels not only enjoyable, he also feels right. And what I feel when I look into his eyes, it's something I never felt before, and I can't quite put my finger on it. I simply want..

I want to dance with him.

"Ms. Elena, did you hear me?" I hear a familiar voice behind me. I look into the mirror and see Bonnie holding the strings of my corset. I would say dressing up is the most painful process of a woman's life, after childbirth.

I shake my head, confused, like I woke up from a trans. "Sorry, I was lost in thought," I respond casually, and Bonnie tightens my corset a little, and for a moment, air escapes my lungs.

Corsets are a form of a torture device, but of course, I'm not allowed to say that either, because I'm a lady, and they make me look prettier, they make my breasts pop up and my waist slimmer. I should be thankful for them, not cursing their existence.

"I asked is your corset tight enough," Bonnie repeats her question which I have not heard the first time around.

"Yes," I nod my head, and my hair gets released from a bun in which Bonnie had tied it in, because it distracts her from helping me dress up. Bonnie huffs and ties my hair back into a bun, this time tighter.

We're having guests. Apparently, I'm being introduced to the closest families in the Salvatore's lives. While they were lounging in the maid's quarters, aunt Jenna told Bonnie, Ms. Forbes is Stefan's best friend from early childhood, and in a near future, he will marry Ms. Pierce. For some reason I was a little bit disappointed when Bonnie told me the news, because that means I'll never know how his lips taste like, and I still want to, even though I know he's promised to someone else, which makes me incredibly shameful. I was about to confess my thoughts about Stefan to Bonnie, but after she told me he's taken, I thought better of it.

After Bonnie finished tying my corset, she handed me my dress in which I slipped without any trouble. Bonnie thought it would be a good idea to wear my hair up for first impression. Somehow, she knows more about these things than me, but I'm skeptical of the idea. I have a beautiful, long, healthy hair, why break it? So we met halfway with leaving my hair down, but gathering the strains from the sides of my face, that are usually touching my cheeks, and fastening it in the middle with a clasp.

When it's time to go downstairs, I open my bedroom door and enter the hallway in the same time Stefan does. He looks at me.. I could never describe the way he looks at me, to be completely honest. It is not admiration, or respect, it is something more, something different. And I really do not know what, as I never came across it. No one ever looked at me the way he does.. nervous like a boy, hungry like an animal, proud like a man.

A shy smile appears on his face as he makes one step closer to me. "Ms. Gilbert," my name rolls down his tongue like a drop of rain, "You look especially lovely today," and I blush.

I am wearing one of my finest dresses, and this fresh, country air is doing wonders to the color of my skin. Even my cheeks are rosier.

I look at him, and his hair is a little messy. He looks like he just woke up from a nap. But he does not look sloppy, he looks childish, boyish. I guess Stefan Salvatore is closer to a boy than to a man. His eyes look like they have seen every corner of this world, but they're hungry for more. He has an old soul, as my mother would say. Like all of the lives he lived before this one are hiding in the depths of his soul which is visible in his eyes. My look falls back on his lips, and the desire to scrap my lips against his comes back.

I dismiss those thoughts immediately but somehow they glue themselves in the back of my mind, so I'm sure they're going to come back to me at the most unfortunate moment.

"You do not look so bad yourself, Mr. Salvatore," I giggle, and after surprise flickers in his eyes, I realize I've said that a little bit more flirty than I intended to.

He regains his posture after initial surprise, and a smile creeps its way back to his face. "Shall we?" he asks as he offers me his hand.

I bite my lower lip from the inside. I think about how this is not a very good idea, but at the same time I want to feel him near me. Also, it's rude to refuse gentleman's request to accompany you somewhere.

"We shall," I say with a melodic tone of voice as I put my arms in his, and he squeezes my arm next to his body, and I cling on to him with my fingers.

I would really like to dance with him.

**KATHERINE'S POV**

I see Stefan coming down the stairs with her under his arm. Elena Gilbert. Whole Mystic Falls has been buzzing about her since Mr. Salvatore decided to give her a place to stay. I still do not understand why is she here, and how come he welcomed a complete stranger into his home when he's weary when he has to accept the visit of me and my mother. Anyway, your life has to be pretty pathetic when you have to use the death of your parents to expand the circle of your companions.

She is pretty, I have to give her that. Okay, she's more than pretty, but I'm not too hasty when it comes to giving compliments. Not everyone deserve a compliment.

She is so slim. Mother always wanted me to be as slim as her, but I'm chubby by nature.

But that is not what holds me attention. The way Stefan is looking at her holds my attention, and it irritates me more and more with every passing second. He's side glancing at her with such delight, care and gentleness, like she's the most precious thing he had ever held in his arms. He knows her what, less than a week? And he already looks like he wants do devour her. He knows me his whole life and he has never looked at me like that.

Mother wants me to marry Stefan. I am very fond of Stefan. You could say I love him, in a way. I think he would make a great husband.

But I do not want him.

I want Damon.

And I shouldn't want Damon, because I can't have Damon, which only makes me want him more.

Mother says Damon brings trouble, which is exactly why I'm attracted to him.

Everyone here, including me, are submissive to their parents. But not Damon. He doesn't let anyone control his life. If there's something Damon doesn't like, he's not afraid to say it. If there's something Damon doesn't want to do, he won't do it. Damon has courage, and he lives like a free man. Damon is like a stallion, and I want to ride with him. I want to run and to feel wind in my hair and to make love under the moonlight. Damon never does as he's told, and if there's something he should not be doing, Damon will do that exact thing. Especially if that something would infuriate his father, which is probably why he's in this war, because his father doesn't want him to be.

But there's one problem. Damon doesn't fall in love. He doesn't do relationships and marriage and harmless flirtation. He has no time for that, because for Damon, life is too short and world is not that big. I've heard a lot of stories about him, how he spends his time in taverns and associates with women of questionable moral. I know Damon had sexual relations, I'm no fool. Damon could never resist something others describe as pleasurable. He lives for pleasure, and passion, and excitement. Whereas I, as a proper lady, am a virgin, and is expected from me to stay untouched until I marry. I've never even kissed anyone, even though I've tried to make Stefan kiss me more times than one. But he never seemed interested. Well, he seems interested in kissing Elena Gilbert. I can see it in a way he looks at her thin, lengthy lips.

Anyway, if Damon ever asked me to be him in that way, I don't think I'd have enough strength to say no. I don't think I'd want to say no. Because I want Damon Salvatore, more than anything.

Which is probably why he never game me a second look, because I want him. Because I'm an easy pray, because I shatter under his look and would probably melt under his touch. Damon likes the hunt, the chase, and I'd fall into his arms, he would not even have to ask twice. Damon likes what's forbidden, he likes to take a bite of it and feel the poison course through his veins.

That's a main difference between Stefan and Damon, which makes both of them charming in their own way. Stefan takes satisfaction in doing the right thing, and Damon revels in the satisfaction of doing a wrong thing.

And for once in my life, I would love to be wrong, and forbidden, and wanted. I want Damon to take a bite of me so I can live in his bloodstream for whole eternity. I would follow Damon to the edge of the world, and he wouldn't even have to ask me to follow him.

Maybe part of a reason why Damon doesn't even notice my existence is because from the moment I was born, I was promised to Stefan. Me and Stefan are linked by a silent agreement between our parents since we came to this planet, and neither of us had a say in it. Do we want to marry each other, are we in love with each other. No one ever asked us anything, it was expected from us to fulfill out duties. Like you can love someone on command. I still do not know what Stefan thinks of it all. Is he really okay with it, or does he only pretend to accept it, like me, because it is proper.

I really do like Stefan, but the life I could have with him, marry him, live as his wife, bear his children, it sounds incredibly dull. If I'm to have children, I want them to have Damon's eyes and his dark hair and his killing smile, as well as his free personality.

I guess Stefan is a second best thing here, and it bothers me to see him happier with someone else than he's with me. He has a smugly smile on his face as he's coming to us with her under his arm, and I realize the smile he wears around me is so fake.

He introduces her to Caroline, and Caroline seems so excited to meet her. Caroline is always excited, though. Sometimes her excitement and happiness can be so annoying, like there's not a thing in her life that bothers her.

They move to me and Stefan introduces her to me. I wish I could be anywhere else but here. I wish I could be with Damon at the battlefield.

But that is not where my place is. My place is here, in safety.

But I do not want safety. I want Damon.

**STEFAN'S POV**

Mesmerizing. She is completely mesmerizing. The way she says my name makes me dizzy, like I've been struck by something harder than words. Her voice is angelic, and the way she uses her flirtatious tone, often unintentionally, sweeps me off my feet. How her lips move, it is like she can move the whole world with her words, and thoughts, and when her lips curve into a smile, it is one of the world's greatest wonders.

It is funny how you think your whole life is planned for you. Who you should marry, be intimate with, have children with, spend the rest of your life with, and then something happens. Someone else walks into your life, and there is something about that person.. something more, something different, something special, something.. unexplainable. Something you have never experienced, something you never knew exists.. all of sudden you feel something you never thought it's possible to feel, and you have no idea what to do with those feelings.

How to express them? How to share them? Should you tell someone? Should you show someone? Why is this happening now, and to you?

And most importantly, does the other person feel the same?

Does she feel the way I feel? That ground shattering, all senses consuming, warm feeling when we're in each other's presence? Is she even aware of the effect she can have on people, on me? Of that breath taking beauty that electrifies through her?

How can a stranger have that effect on me? How can someone about whom I know few basic facts make me feel more than anyone has during my whole life? How can someone I know for only few days occupy every inch of my mind and explore my thoughts through every second of every day?

Is she a stranger? Maybe I knew her in previous life. Maybe I knew her in all of my previous lives. Maybe I've promised her I will find her, and now when she's here, I can feel the history of my soul going wild inside of my body. Maybe she was supposed to find me. I should learn how to concentrate again so I can listen to what my soul has to tell me. Maybe then I could understand her soul too.

"Stefan, are you even listening to me?" Caroline throws a bundle of grass in my way and it lands on my leg. I look into her direction, and from the frown on her face I can conclude she's been expecting an answer to what she's been telling for quite some time.

Caroline Forbes is my best friend, and there are things I can say only to her. There are things she knows about me I haven't even figured out about myself yet, and I know her better than she knows herself. She knows everything about me and I know everything about her, and my life without her in it would be pretty much pointless.

"Yes, Tyler Lockwood is the reason you exist and he fills your lungs with the juice of life, and so on," I use my sarcastic voice.

I rarely joke, but when I do it, it's usually around Caroline and Damon. Me being relaxed and fun is the only thing that can keep Caroline and Damon in the same room.

I never thought of myself as an interesting and fun person, not like my brother is, but Caroline begs to differ. She says my way of fun jumps out of the social norm of what the rest of the world categorizes under fun. Caroline always cheers me up by taking my faults and turning them into good things by using me being different from the rest of them as an excuse.

"Stefaaaan," she says my name through a whine.

It is socially unacceptable for people to address each other by their first name, but Caroline and me do it all the time. Not in front of others, of course. They would never understand how can we be so comfortable around each other, so in front of them we call each other as rest of the people call us, Mr. Salvatore and Ms. Forbes. Mostly during social events, after which we usually make fun of others, how well we can fool them.

I turn my head to her and smile. She rolls her eyes.

"Have you told anyone how you do not want to marry Katherine?" she asks casually while picking handfuls of grass near the query we're sitting by. This is where me and Caroline usually go when we want to be alone. It's far away from everyone, so no one bothers us, but still, we are close to everything and everyone.

I furrow my brows. "I'm going to marry Katherine," I say with fake determination.

Caroline laughs, but it is a mocking laugh. "I know you will," she rolls her eyes once more, telling me marrying Katherine is so Stefan from him, always doing the right thing, always doing what's expected from me. Is marrying Katherine the right thing just because others say it is? Doesn't he have a right to decide what's the right thing for him? "But you do not want to," Caroline finishes her sentence.

I look at her and shake my head. "No, I do not," I can be honest with Caroline. She's the only person I can be completely honest with.

She nods her head, and decides to leave the subject alone, for now. "Elena seems nice," she says.

A lengthy smile appears on my face. "She is nice," I say, and when I see Caroline checking me out, I do my best to hide that all telling smile.

"What was that?" she asks like a little child.

"What was what?" I pretend I'm completely oblivious to the smile that appeared on my face.

"Stefan Salvatore," she says my name full of excitement as she takes her dress between her fingertips and gets closer to me, "You've been hiding something from me," she says with a devilish smile on her face as she sits next to me, poking my shoulder with hers.

"Maybe I have," I say playfully, tickling her imagination.

"Tell me," she almost orders me, but I'm used to taking orders from Caroline.

"There's really nothing to tell," I say, realizing I could never express my feelings with words.

"Liar," she cocks her eyebrow at me.

"All I'm saying is that Elena is nice," there are so many meanings behind the word nice. So many hidden words, thoughts, feelings, those I can't share with the world because I do not know how.

"My aunt said Dr. Fell is nice too," Caroline says out of the blue.

I furrow my brows in confusion. "Your aunt is married to Dr. Fell."

A significant smirk appears on Caroline's face. "Exactly."

**xxxx**

**A/N: For those who are wondering no, Katherine is not a vampire, there's no supernatural in this story, she's simply a little vixen ;)**

**I'd really love to hear your thoughts on the story, and I hope you're enjoying it :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**STEFAN'S POV**

Caroline liked Elena, very much. But then again, Caroline likes everyone, she's a very friendly and open person, which makes her different from the rest of the people around here. She kept teasing me about my silence when it comes to the question in what way do I think Elena is nice for hours after I had revealed it. I was silent out of one reason only, I had no idea what to tell her. This effect this stranger living in my house has on me is simply unexplainable, or at least I can't explain it with words. I wish someone could explain it to me what is this feeling or why do I feel it, and why don't I feel it towards the person I'm supposed to marry in the future. I'm sure mother would be able to explain it to me if she were here, she used to have all the answers to every one of my questions. I guess mothers are supposed to know everything. Sometimes I think about me and Katherine having a family, and I can't picture her as a mother, because she has no answers to any of the questions.

Other thing I've noticed is that Katherine doesn't seem to be too fond of Elena. She kept glaring at her judgmentally, and the smile on her face was more than fake when Elena was introduced to her. I know Katherine well enough so I feel qualified to make those observations.

My philosophy tutor is reading us a piece by Kant, but I'm not really paying any attention to it, even though I know he will assign us with bunch of questions to answer which we will discuss the next time we meet. I can't concentrate on anything but Elena. Not when she's sitting there with her big eyes locked on our tutor, even though she does not seem interested in any of it. When I look at her better, I realize she is not looking at our tutor, but through a window behind him. Physically, she's here, inside this room with me, but mentally she's out there, on my estate which is as wide and long as your mind can imagine, surrounded by woods from each side. If you cross the woods from the right side, you will reach Caroline's house, and if you cross it from the left side, you will reach Katherine's house.

Her long hair is flowing over her upper body, spreading over her back like a streaming river, bending on her shoulders, disappearing at her front, playfully scraping against her cheeks. I never realized a woman's hair can be so enchanting. Women I grew up around always wear it up, like it's a necessity, a fashion statement, not something that is part of them, like their eyes or lips or nose, something that makes them different than the others. I never got to fully enjoy it, neither did I know looking at woman's hair can be an enjoyable sight. It's like one time when I was a boy, I was sick when it snowed, so mother did not let me go out to play, and the only thing I could do was watch the snow from the window. I knew it was there, but I was not able to enjoy it. Damon tried to bring it to me couple of times, but it would melt in his hands before he would reach my room.

Her eyes are wandering all over the window, and they're glistening. Her soul is not trying to break out, it wants to take her whole body outside. I guess that is what fascinates me about Elena the most. I do not mind experiencing everything mentally and emotionally, but she wants to experience it on a physical level too.

Like she can feel my eyes on her, she turns her head around to look at me, and smiles with a smile which is, I believe, the most beautiful smile on all of the seven continents. I blush from the effect of her smile and turn my look away, locking it on the desk in front of me.

As I predicted, the tutor gives us a bunch of questions we should work through until our next meeting. When I step into the hallway, I can hear her calling my name. "Mr. Salvatore," she says melodically and my heart jumps a little from the sound of her voice.

I turn around and see her walking towards me, hopping a little on the hardwood floor, like a child. Her dress is dragging behind her, she even steps on it few times, but she doesn't seem to mind. Her hair is jumping on her shoulders every time she lifts her feet from the ground, and her eyes are locked on mine. She's smiling, with her eyes, with her lips, with every inch of her existence.

"Would you care to join me for a walk?" she asks as she stops in front of me.

"Yes," I reply instantly, without giving it a second thought. I would have to be out of my mind to refuse to spend time with her when she willingly wants to spend it with me.

She smiles even wider, little devilishly, like she knows I'm hungry for her company, before she passes by me and opens the front door. Then she stops and looks at me over her shoulder, which is bare, and looks at me seductively. "Are you coming?" she asks, before she giggles and disappears from the house.

For a moment, everything seems like a dream. Like I'm suddenly going to wake up and realize none of this is real. I'm afraid of blinking, because I'm afraid of opening my eyes and finding out she never came to me and asked me for a walk.

I blink. I open my eyes. And I still hear her giggle outside. Which is when I decide to hurry to meet her.

I walk out of the house only to see her in the distance, twirling on the lawn, her whole being bathed in the sun. Her hair is flying in the air, making a halo around her head. Her long, swan like neck is showing, and I want to put my lips against it. Kiss it, taste her skin. Is that normal? Her shoulders are bare and her skin seems so glassy in sunlight. So gentle, so soft, so irresistible. Her hoopskirt is twirling alongside her, wind lifting it up from the ground.

Elena Gilbert enjoys life, and she looks at the world through eyes of a child, both of which I forgot how to do. I never especially enjoyed life, not the way people enjoy it in the books I've read. I never had an adventure or experienced passion, I've always lived life like I was told I'm supposed to live it. I guess that is why I always envied Damon for his freedom, and for his ability to stand up for things he wants to do, as well as stand up against those things he doesn't want to do.

I wish I could look at the world through eyes of a child, but unfortunately, I'm not longer one. Neither is Elena, but somehow, she had managed to keep that part of herself, her inner child, and play with it on the surface of her grown up face.

"This is not how a lady acts like," I say with a tone which is clearly mocking every consideration of how a proper lady should behave. I've always found our society silly, so many rules to follow, which is why I always cursed myself for not having enough strength to stand up against it.

Elena stops twirling and looks at me a little lost. At first I think she's dizzy, but then she grins at me, putting her hands on her hips. "But who ever said I'm a lady?" she asks with a grin on her face. I'm stunned, taken back a little. Everyone wants to be a lady. Those who are ladies enjoy being ones, and those who aren't want to be ones. No one ever expressed a desire of not being one, or considered not calling herself one, when being a lady is her full right. But of course Elena doesn't want to be a lady, she's different. She doesn't want what other people do.

"But Ms. Gilbert," I say her name with fake surprise in my voice, "Everyone wants to be a lady. It's like an unwritten rule," I start walking, and after I pass by her, I can hear her huff.

She actually hops by in front of me and raises her eyebrow at me. "Rules are here to be broken," she seems pretty satisfied with her choice of words, but the grin on her face lessens, as the expression of my face becomes serious.

"You remind me of my brother," I announce, still trying to decide is that a good, or a bad thing, "He never follows the rules either," I huff as I look down and start walking again.

I can hear her footsteps next to me. There is a few second pause between my sentence and hers, and she finally says, "Your brother sounds like a smart man," she says, and I shiver because of her words, unbelievable amount of cold air sneaking into my lungs, "When I'm going to meet him?" she seems excited. Why shouldn't she be? Everyone are always so excited to meet Damon.

I love my brother, I really do. Other than Caroline, he's my best friend. I grew up with him, he practically raised me, since he took care of me all of the times father was unable to, which was a lot. Father had a hard time looking at me after mother died, and Damon told me it's because I inherited the color of her eyes, as well as warmth behind them. Damon's look is stiff and cold most of the times, like father's, and it always has been, since he was a boy.

Damon and me are pretty close, and even though I'm used to sharing my concerns and thoughts with Caroline, Damon can read the way I'm feeling just by looking at my face. I guess it's because of the bond we share, because same blood runs through our veins. He knows me better than anyone, and I do not even have to say anything for him to know what's going on, I never did.

"I do not know," I respond, sadness evident in my voice, "He said he will write to me when they decide to let him go home," I frown, angry he is not able to come home when he pleases to. I would be proud of my brother for participating in such a cause if I did not know he's doing it just to spite our father. If he found any pleasure in what he does, it would be news to me.

I finally raise my look from the ground to her face, and catch her eyes locked on mine, she looks like she's studying me, like she's capturing my pain. She keeps looking at me for a while before she sighs loudly and hurries in front of me.

"Tell me," she says curiously, "How did you come to love Ms. Pierce?" I'd really love to see her face expression as she asks this question, but I can't, because she's in front of me, playing with the wind.

"Excuse me?" I'm a little taken back by her question.

Her shoulders stiffen and she turns around to face me. There's a scared expression on her face. Her eyes wander all over my face, like she's trying to capture every emotion I'm feeling, maybe so she would know how to answer. "It was never my intention to upset you," she says with a husky voice, and I want to dismiss her worries, to tell her she did not upset me at all, only surprised me, but she continues before I even get a chance to part my lips, "Stories about love amuse me, since I do not believe in it," she looks down, her shoulders still stiff, and she looks like she's waiting for her punishment.

"You do not believe in love?" I ask surprised, somewhat shocked.

How can someone like her not believe in love? She seems like one of those people who believe in everything others are skeptical about. Magic, dreams, wishes coming true, monsters in the dark. She seems so.. open to everything, especially something, which is described as wonderful, as love.

She raises her look, a little surprised, probably because she had expected a completely different reaction from me. She shakes her head slightly, before she opens her mouth, and a silent whisper comes out of it, "No," she says determined. Like there's no such thing as love.

I believe in love. If there's no love, what is there? What is the point of life if we marry out of obligation, if we kiss only out of pleasure, and if we have children only to continue our race? If there's no love, then there's no hope, no happiness, no faith. Those things are as evident as love, or should I say, there's lack of evidence of them. If there's no love there should be no hate, and if there's no happiness there should be no sorrow either. And there is. I'm sure, because I've felt it. No one can deny me that. And because I've felt sorrow, I know I've felt happiness too.

"I believe in admiration," she turns around and starts walking, "Passion. Lust. Preference. But I do not believe in such thing as love," she waves her hand like love is impossible to find, like no one ever experienced it before. When I finally catch up with her I notice her frowning. "Or should I say, I do not believe in love in adults. I think children are very much capable of it, but somewhere down the road, we lose it. The ability to love," she seems deep into her thoughts, but it explains her behavior, the way she tries to preserve her inner child. The way her eyes wander and how curious she is about everything, the way she acts and hops around the house, she is trying to stay a child so she could be able to love.

She does not believe in love, but in the same time she's doing so much in the name of love.

"I do not love Katherine," slips down my tongue and when it falls on her brain, she flinches, like my words had burned her. She looks at me surprised, and confused, and I decide to correct myself, "I do love her, in a way, but I'm not in love with her. It's not love man should feel for a woman he's bound to marry," I explain.

And in that moment, I swear, she exhaled in relief. Or maybe it was only my imagination, since she composed herself pretty quickly. It was all in my head.

She clears her throat through a cough before she asks, "Why are you going to marry her then, if you do not love her?" she asks a question I've been asking myself for months now. Question so simple, but yet so complicated. Question with one logical answer, which is in the same time so illogical, so downgrading, so unmoral.

"Because father says so," I respond, like a coward. I do not feel like a man at all, hell, I do not even feel like a boy. I feel like a coward, like an animal, like a sheep. Blindly following someone else's instructions without asking any of the questions. Since when do others know what's best for me? Do they even care?

I should stand up for myself. I should stand up for Katherine too. With silence, I'm digging us deeper in this hole on misery, locking our future with ropes of sorrow, tying us together when we're not supposed to be tied in the first place, since we do not go well together. I'm a still river and she's a hurricane; she destroys me, but in the same time she doesn't want to do so. I only keep her from fulfilling her purpose. And both of us are unhappy, because I live in fear one day she will destroy me, and she shares the same fear with me, that she will have to live with the guilt of destroying me.

I'm a sad excuse of a man, and I can see pity in Elena's eyes. Maybe even disgust.

"And you always do as your father says?" she hisses at me, but her voice is still gentle, so I swallow only a little bit of poison that comes out of her mouth.

"I never thought I have a choice," I respond with a lie. I always knew there's a choice, but I was always too scared to make it.

Damon wouldn't. Damon would not allow himself to be in this situation, even if he did, he would know how to dig himself out of it. But me? I know nothing. I have tutors, I've read books, I have so many information in my mind and my imagination is as wide as the estate we're walking through right now, but I know nothing. I have no idea how to get by in life without the help of others, and even with their help I limp. As proud as I am to keep a part of my mother alive, sometimes I wish I had inherited my father's strength and persistence instead of shattering look of my mother's eyes.

"And Ms. Pierce? How does she feel about this?" Elena asks with a certain amount of pity in her voice, towards Katherine, I suppose.

I'm too ashamed to tell her I never asked for Katherine's opinion, so I say, "Ms. Pierce wants my brother."

Elena turns her head towards me in shock, and she does it way too fast. I was not too hasty to make this assumption. It's not even an assumption, it's a fact. Like I already said, I know Katherine well, and I can see the way she looks at Damon. When he's mentioned, she smiles. When he walks into the room, her whole being lights up. I would even say she's in love with him.

"And your brother?" she asks after her initial shock fades away.

I smirk at the thought of my brother. I'm fairly sure he's aware of Katherine's affections towards him. If I had noticed, he must have too. "What Damon wants, Damon takes," I hiss through my teeth, remembering how Damon, while trying to teach me about unfairness of life, often expressed his power over me. Damon shows love in his own way.

I turn my head to look at Elena, and when I catch her already looking at me, I say, "The two of you would get along well," and my own words damage the surface of my heart. I take my look off her, hoping she did not interpret my words as an insult, because I did not mean it like that.

But the thought of Elena liking my brother more than me saddens me. They are so alike in so many ways, both of them are so free, so different from the rest of the people here, have a different view on certain situations and they are not afraid to express it. And me.. I'm like a clone of everyone else around here, and I think in a way, both Elena and my brother hate me for that. Because they're stuck with me, they have to accept me, but they also hate people like me. I think both of them wish I could be better, different, more like them.

But I can't, because I'm not like them.

But I'm not like people around here either.

I'm silently judging them and cursing their ways.

Elena doesn't react to my words. She takes her look away from me and looks in front of herself. Suddenly, a smile appears on her face, and she starts hopping in front of me again.

"Tell me, Mr. Salvatore," there she goes, saying my name with the same melodic tone of voice, and my worries she's disgusted with me, disappear. "What do you do for fun around here?" she asks happily.

"Well, I have classes every day, except on Saturday and Sunday, I have my piano lessons on - "

"You do those things because you have to," she interrupts me in the middle of my sentence, "Not because you take pleasure in them."

She speaks the truth. I have a weekly schedule by which I must obey, even when I'm not in the mood. Sometimes I enjoy learning, but sometimes I'm too distracted to enjoy it, which makes it painful. Sometimes it pains me physically to sit there and listen to things I have no interest listening to at the moment.

"I, for instance, love dancing," she takes the fabric of her skirt in between her fingertips and starts dancing around.

I hate dancing. I guess this is why Elena and me would never make a good pair. I sit silently as I watch the world spin under my feet, and she.. she is the world. She spins around, first in one direction then another, she's full of beauty and excitement and grace, but there's also sorrow in her eyes. But no matter how happy or sad she is, she keeps on spinning, dancing.

She looks like she was born to dance. Maybe she learned how to dance before she learned how to walk. There's wind beneath her feet, and she looks like she's flying.

"I enjoy reading," I respond, happy to find something I really do enjoy doing. Reading is how I spend most of my free time.

Elena stops dancing and my heart sinks a little, because time stole such a precious sight from me.

"You do?" she asks a little bit surprised, but happy, because by the light curving of my lips she knows I'm being honest.

I nod at her. I really do love reading, opening a book and getting lost in a completely different world invented by someone else.

She let's go of her dress, fixes the ruffles she had created on it, and looks at me gently. "I would like you to read to me," she says like it's her dying wish, and who am I to say no to her?

**ELENA'S POV**

Stefan picked Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream" from the library, which he says is his favorite book. I remember my tutor back home assigning me with that book couple of years ago, but I do not remember it as especially pleasurable reading. But then again, there are only few books I find pleasurable, since I do not like to read, nor do I have time to. Mother used to say I'm to hard to tame, I'm too wild and too free to be sitting and reading for hours. I would rather live my story than read someone else's.

When I mentioned meeting his brother, I swear, there was a hint of jealousy in his response. I wonder why, since I'm under the impression they have a nice relationship. That is what I heard from aunt Jenna, at least.

I try to spend as much time as possible with my aunt, to get to know her better, since she is the only family I have now. She tells me stories about my mother when she was younger, and about their relationship, but she does not want to respond to my question did my mother have anything to do with her being banished by her own family. She keeps saying the past belongs in past. She also told me I was born before she was disinherited and forced to move, but I was too young to remember her. I even met her husband, who's really nice and friendly, and their daughter, who's only few years younger than me.

When I turn 18 and get access to my inheritance, I will help them financially. Give my aunt what's rightfully hers.

I'm sitting on a porch swing and Stefan is sitting on one of the steps, his back leaning against the fence. I offered him to sit next to me, but he said he always sits there when he reeds during the summer.

There is something about the way Stefan reads. Words are dancing on his tongue before he pronounces them, and he's reading this book with such wonder, like he's never read it before. It's funny how a person can enjoy something they already enjoyed million of times before. I guess it's the same with him and books as it's with me and dancing. I can repeat a certain dance numerous of times, but still, every time I do it, it seems different, and new, and special.

You can see he's enjoying it, and it's a pleasure hearing him read.

I guess me and Stefan are very much alike, we have the same passion towards different things.

I have to admit I was kinda relieved when Stefan told me he's not in love with Katherine. I can't figure out why I felt that way, but it felt like someone freed me from my shackles, like a huge burden has been lifted from my chest.

I wish I could interpret this feeling, this desire to spend every waking moment with Stefan, to hear him talk, read, or to simply look at his beautiful face. Or to mention his brother only to see jealousy flicker in his eyes as the name of his brother comes out of my mouth.

This makes me feel really, really wrong, my desire to inflict jealousy in Stefan, just so I would know he cares for me, or that he does not want to share me with anyone else.

What bothers me more is my desire for his touch. I want to feel his fingertips on my skin, only because I'm convinced he would create flames on it. His touch would bruise me, but it would also have ability to heal me. I want to feel his touch all over my body, and the thought of it often makes me blush. I want his lips pressing against mine.

I've never felt like this before, and I wish mother was here so I could ask her what it all means.

Until I figure it out, I would not mind spending my time sitting here and hearing him read as we dance together in my thoughts.

**STEFAN'S POV**

I run into my room excitedly, happiness evident on my face. The book is still in my hand as I turn the doorknob and enter my bedroom. I can feel my cheeks burning, which means there's blood red blush on them. There's this dopey smile on my face, and I'm glad no one can see me at the moment, because they would probably wonder why does my face look so stiff. But there's nothing I can do to stop smiling.

I close the door of my bedroom, and the sound of it is equivalent to the sound of my heart beating.

I'm convinced now, more than ever, that Elena Gilbert is an actual angel.

I walk over to the table in the middle of the room to put the book down, when I notice a white envelop on it.

I take it in my hands and open it in a hurry, and my eyes grow wider and wider as I read.

Damon.

Damon is coming home.

* * *

**AN: This chapter is here to portray how differently Stefan and Elena view their relationship. Stefan thinks they're too different, and Elena thinks that difference actually makes them similar.**

**Damon is coming home? Does this mean trouble for Stefan and Elena? Is Stefan going to be jealous? Does he have a reason to be jealous? How is Katherine going to react to Damon coming back home?**


	4. Chapter 4

**STEFAN'S POV**

Father told me to wear something nice, and when I asked him when do I not wear something nice, he was questionably quiet. I find myself a decent dresser, considering from what I've seen the other boys my age wear, especially in town. Sure, sometimes I forget to fix my collar, or to push my shirt down my pants, or even button my suit up, but other than my boyish clumsiness, I think I dress very well.

Jenna made Damon's favorite meal, and prepared his bedroom. Father ordered all the maids to prepare the house, so for three days now already, they've been cleaning, dusting, changing every single thing, from curtains to sheets. Like Damon will even notice. And even if he does, he will not care.

Damon does not care about material things. He never did. Neither do I, but it is nice to have a comfort of knowing you're taken care of, and to be able to read a book whenever you want to. I often enjoy my privileges, unlike Damon, who always avoided them like plague. He never took more than he needed, but he also never made me feel ashamed when I did the complete opposite. While we were growing up, I wanted to be exactly like him, like my big brother. In my eyes, he was perfect. In a way, he still is. I wish I possess certain qualities he does. But not so long ago, Caroline pointed out how my wish to be like him is foolish, because if I were like him, where would be fun in that? We would be completely the same, and all the things I admire in him would not seem so special anymore, because I would possess them too. She had a point, if I were like him, everything about me would stop existing. I would stop being me, and truth be told, sometimes..

..sometimes I like being me.

I love my brother, and I'm happy he's coming home, but I do not understand the need for these preparations. I think father is doing all of this only so he would seem good in the eyes of others, welcoming his first born home, like a hero. And Damon? He's probably going to make everyone feel smaller than poppy seed before he goes out, gets drunk, and finds himself someone who's going to keep him warm at night.

Because that's Damon, always doing the wrong things at the wrong time, but in a right way. Damon was always good at being wrong. I guess that is his luxury, doing something worthy of shame and getting away with it. But he never wanted to get away with it. I guess that's why he always tries to outdo himself, because by now, people expect him to do something wrong. He had lost his element of surprise, but since he was gone for months, I'm sure he had a lot of time to think about his next devious plan.

Like always, I do as I'm told. I dress nicely, or at least I hope I do. Now I'm doubting my own dressing skills. I put on one of my best suits, black one, and dress a plain, white, button up shirt under it, and in that moment, I realize I do not know how to put on a tie by myself. I wonder which one should I choose to wear. Jenna always does these things for me, but I know she's busy now, so I do not want to bother her with my trivial problems.

I'm standing in front of my closet, with a frown on my face, pondering about which tie should I wear.

"You look so deep in thought, Mr. Salvatore," I hear a voice coming from outside of my room, "Is something bothering you?" I step away from my closet and notice Elena standing in the hallway, in front of my bedroom door. I was not even aware my bedroom door are open. Had she opened them by herself? Why would she do that? It is impossible anyway, I'd hear that squeaky sound they make when they're being opened.

I look at her carefully. Her hair is curly today, and tied into a tail with a medium size bow. I suddenly wonder how women do that, transform their hair in only a day? When it comes to Elena, I notice things I've never noticed before, things I've never though about before. Like the hair, and how the skin of their neck seems softer than anywhere else, and how their chest rises and falls when they breathe, and the shape of their lips.

She's wearing a beautiful crinoline, who's skirt is off-white, and layered few times, and the top of it is pink, very light color, with small bows for buttons. Her shoulders are bare, once again, and I can see her bosom, the way they rise as she inhales, and fall as she exhales, so sweetly. Her collar bones are popping out of her body, especially catching my attention, and there's something so sensual about them. I wonder did she dress like this for the arrival of my brother, and did my father order her to do it, like he did with me, or did she do it willingly?

When I realize I'm staring at her, I shake myself out of trans I had found myself in, and raise my head to meet her look.

"Yes, actually," I scratch the back of my head with my fingers, frowning again, "I cannot seem to choose which tie I should wear," I huff.

She's holding her hands behind her back, slightly swinging right, then left. Her full attention is on me, her eyes locked on mine, on my whole being. Her look is wandering over my whole body, and even though I've noticed her doing this a couple of times before, out of some, to me, unknown reason, this time, I let myself believe she's truly doing it intentionally. There's a smile on her face, angelic smile, and I can't help but wonder is she wearing that for my brother too, or is she wearing it for me? Maybe she's a cheerful person all together, so maybe, she's smiling out of habit.

Does it make me selfish if I hope she's smiling because of me? Because I would like to take her smile and make it my own.

"I could help you with that," she says cheerfully, proud of herself she's able to offer her assistance to me, "If you allow me to come in, of course," she lowers her look down, and I have a feeling she's playing with me. She bats her eyelashes couple of times and raises her look up on a little, but enough for me to see it. And when I do, she lowers it back down in a hurry. Maybe she wants me to chase her.

The thing is, I would, chase her. I would chase her for an eternity.

Allow her? I was not aware anyone could forbid Elena Gilbert anything. The girl who dances when it's time to rest, who wants to fly with the birds and swim with dolphins, and who lets her dress drag behind her, without caring about it, not even a bit.

Even if I tried to keep her out of my room, I'm sure that, somehow, she would find her way in.

She came into my life uninvited, and now, I'm not sure I could survive without her being in it. How to go back to the darkness once you've found the light?

"Of course you can come in," I say, like I find it silly she even thought she has to ask.

She finally raises her look from the ground, and looks at me satisfied, like I gave her more than permission to step into my room. But then, as she makes a step forward, and her foot exceeds my threshold, a scared look appears on her face, like she's giving me more than I deserve, and taking from me more than she needs.

But she continues anyway, because she's fearless.

A smile creeps back on her face, and as she makes her way towards me, I begin to feel a little bit uncomfortable. Other than my mother, Jenna and Caroline, no other woman has been in my room. And as much as she tries to, she can't keep her eyes from wandering all over it. As she does so, I feel like I'm giving her a little piece of me. She's taking it out of permission, overstepping her boundaries, being intimate with me on one level, by knowing where I sleep, where I read, where I dress. This is wrong, she should not be in my room. If anyone should have a permission to visit me in here, it should be my future wife. This is so wrong, but..

..it feels so right.

Like she belongs here. Like she's a piece that's always been missing, and I failed to notice it, until now, when she finally found her place, and the picture looks so much better with her in it.

She stops in front of me, looks at my wardrobe, and after a little bit of thinking sticks her hand inside and pulls a tie out of it. She presses a dark green tie next to my chest, puckers her lips before a light smile appears on her face. "This," she says proudly, maybe a little bit over excited, "It matches your eyes," she nods.

She pops the collar of my shirt up and throws a tie around it. I can feel her famine scene finding its home in my nostrils, tickling my brain, making me day dream about her soft skin pressing next to mine. My mind is a mess, my thoughts are crashing into each other like waves during a sea storm, and her smell is making me dizzy, and she's so free and I'm so chained, she's so beautiful and I'm so childish, she's so independent and curious and I have no idea who I am or how would I even define my personality, but I keep thinking that maybe different things go so well together because when they mix, you realize they're not so different after all, and they can make something beautiful. Rainbow is a mix of colors, and some people say rainbow is the most magical think human mind can interpret.

All I keep thinking about is, if only I lean over a little bit, my lips would end up on hers. I could kiss her, if I wanted to. And I do want to, I simply do not have enough courage to do it.

"And how are my eyes like, Ms. Gilbert?" I surprise myself with the words that come out of my mouth, but I guess I feel free enough to act flirty with her, because after all, she's on my territory now.

She does not even raise her look which is locked on her fingers, trying to adjust my tie. Her breathing became heavier after I asked that question, and I can see her chest rising higher than before.

"Green," she responds, her fingers still around my tie, "Like freshly mowed grass, or like two shiny marbles of prophecy, with little freckles of brown under the sunlight," she lets go of my tie as a satisfactory smile appears on her face, "There," she raises her head.

When I think I have her trapped in between my fingers, she wiggles her way out of it. Figures as much, she's too beautiful and too full of life to be imprisoned.

Her smile becomes even wider as she glares at my stunned face expression, and in a hurry, she covers her eyes with the palms of her hands and asks, "And my eyes? What are they like?" she asks playfully while swinging left and right.

My face flushed, and I felt like there's no air in my lungs. I was pretty sure I'm going to say something stupid. In theory, I was a great speaker, a very articulate one. But when it comes to women and saying the right thing at the right time, I'm afraid my brother picked all of the smooth talk genes before I even came to the world. I usually nod politely or smile, out of fear all of the words mixing in my head will come out in the wrong order. Damon says that is not a way to impress a lady.

"Well?" she asks, a little irritated, "Have you not noticed the color of my eyes?" she begins to uncover her eyes by detaching her hands from her face, but before she's able to do it I stop her by pressing my palms on the top of her hands.

Her skin is hot, but out of some reason, she started shivering when my skin came in contact with hers. Maybe my skin is cold. It's also soft, very soft, like the silky, white dress Caroline wore to her first ball.

"No," I say determined, "I'm simply taking my time to decide which words to use to describe them," I say gently, feeling her stiff hands relax under mine.

"And?" she swallows.

I can't stop thinking about her skin, and how perfectly her hands fall into mine.

"Beautiful, lovely, enchanting, wonderful, gorgeous, all of these words sound so overused," I say gently as I caress her hand with my thumb and wonder does she notice what I'm doing. "But all of them cross my mind when I look into your eyes."

I want to lower my hands to her cheeks and cup her face, pull her close to me and kiss her, but my train of thoughts is disrupted because of Caroline's voice shouting from downstairs, "Stefan!" she calls my name, "Damon is here!"

I pull my hands from hers in a hurry and she lowers her hands from her face, looking at me with her big, glossy eyes, before she smiles at me, takes my hand in hers and leads me out of my room.

**ELENA'S POV**

When we reach the stairs, I let go of Stefan's hand, so someone wouldn't get the wrong impression.

But I wonder, after recent events, is there such a thing as wrong impression?

When we come downstairs Stefan stands between my aunt and Katherine, and I stand on the other side of my aunt.

I see a young man coming out of the carriage. He looks exactly like he was described to me - coal black hair, deep blue eyes, devilish smirk on his face, pale skin, manly demeanor and somewhat smugly walk. He's wearing his army uniform, in which he looks very handsome, and as he enters the house, he takes his hat off before greeting his father.

Mr. Salvatore shakes his hand tightly as he nods proudly at his son.

Damon moves over to Caroline and, with a smugly smirk on his face, kisses Caroline's hand. She rolls her eyes, only confirming what I've heard about their relationship - those two can't stand each other.

When he stands in front of Katherine, her eyes flicker and I wonder has Stefan seen that. I try to catch a glance of him, but when I finally do, all I can see is him looking straight forward, expressionless.

Damon finally moves in front of Stefan, and when he stands in front of him, his smugly smirk is replaced by the brightest and warmest smile. Stefan smiles back, and Damon throws his arms around Stefan, putting his hands on his back and pulling his brother in for a hug. Stefan laughs out loud and does the same, wraps his arms around Damon and welcomes him home.

He moves from Stefan to Jenna and smiles warmly, and then, he reaches me. Smirk is back on his face as he takes a hold of my hand, "And you must be Ms. Gilbert," he leans down and kisses the top of my hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you," he raises his look up to me, and I wonder from whom has he heard about me, but I'm much too smitten to ask.

Everything I've heard about Damon is correct. He's beautiful, a special kind of beautiful. He's also very handsome, and charming. He has that something that makes everyone in the room stop whatever they're doing and look at him when he walks in.

I giggle, because I'm no different than any other woman, his charm has an effect on me, and I can't hide it. "The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Salvatore," and his name makes its way through my lips differently than when I call Stefan by it.

Damon stands still, and looks at me devilishly, his eyes wandering all over me, the way Stefan's never did, the way no one's ever did, and says, "Please, call me Damon."

As he winks at me and I smile at him as blush attacks my cheeks, I can feel Stefan's eyes on both of us. Air escapes my lungs and cold wind washes all over me, but when I manage to turn my head to him, he's already enjoying Caroline's attention.

Jenna tells us we should all move to the dining room as she goes in the direction of the kitchen.

We all sit around the dining table, Stefan and Damon next to each other, somehow Katherine managed to sit next to Damon, which I find very inappropriate, since she's to be married to Stefan, she should really keep her crush in check. Caroline sits next to Stefan and I find my place across the table, all alone, while Mr. Salvatore takes the spot on the edge of the table.

Stefan and Damon are talking, Stefan is smiling widely while Damon is telling him stories about the war and all the places they've been, and in that moment I realize there are to similarities between the two of them. If I did not know they're brothers, I would never have guessed.

The differences in their personalities were clear even before I had a chance to meet Damon, but now I also see there are differences in their appearance.

Yes, Damon looks very handsome, he has a strong figure which nicely fills his uniform, the lines of his face are stiff which is, out of some reason, very attractive and breathtaking, and his hair is so nicely done and pushed backwards. But all of that is nothing in comparison to Stefan's boyish charm, gentle and soft lines of his face, big eyes, warm and kind, like in an angel, his playful figure and messy hair. Maybe Damon knows how to find all of the right words and charm all of the ladies, and Stefan stumbles whenever he talks, but that only makes his words that much more precious.

There is something about Stefan.. about the way he looks at me. True, he has never looked at me like Damon did, but Stefan never looks directly at me, it's like he's looking through me. Or in me, I'm not even sure. When I speak, he's not looking at my lips, but in my eyes, like they have so much more to say than my lips do. When he compliments my looks, he does not look at me lustfully, he looks at me like he truly has been breath taken by me. When he looks at me, it's like he's caressing every inch of my being with his eyes. Like he's exploring the depths of my soul, and when his full attention is on me, I can feel my insides shattering.

I can't forget the way his touch felt on my skin earlier today. How he burned me with his intensity, leaving his mark on my skin. When he touched me, he stole all of the air from my lungs, he made me weep in my mind because I did not want to show him my fear and weep from the outside.

When I stepped into his room, I felt like I'm taking a step too far, if I do this there's no turning back, and I was scared, but in the same time, something was pushing me into his direction. Or pulling me. I haven't felt fear in a long time, I was taught not to be scared of anything, because if I ever wanted to, I could spin the world on my little finger. But this silent, shy, quivering boy scares me much more than anything life ever threw my way.

My pain, the pain I felt before I came here, the pain I thought I will feel forever, that it will become something that eats me alive, day by day, that pain is now replaced by fear. Somehow, the pain of losing my parents, went away. I miss them, and from time to time my heart aches when I remember them, but I'm not constantly sad like I was before. My smile is not fake, which is something I haven't expected to happen.

Stefan Salvatore gave me a real reason to smile.

**KATHERINE'S POV**

When Mr. Salvatore informed my mother Damon is coming back home, sweat washed over me. When mother told me the news, it took all the strength I have in my body, not to explode right that instant. I excused myself, went into my room, and screamed into my pillow.

I remember him like he never went away. Like I was able to see him every day over these past months he was gone. I remember the features of his face, the way he walks, like he's proud of the man he has become, of the way words crawl out of his mouth, and how he says everything that's on his mind.

How I wish I have his freedom. How I wish I could be fearless and free. How I wish I could be his.

I would gladly be his puppet, let him hold the strings of my life in his hands, coordinate my every movement with his fingers.

I would do everything Damon Salvatore asks from me to do.

I picked out one of my best dresses, tied my hair into a stiff bun so my neck would be clear and its existence evident, and practiced my best smile in front of a mirror all day long.

I wanted him to notice me. To really notice me. To look into my eyes and see me for who I truly am. Not his brother's future wife, not that little annoying girl who followed him around when we were kids, not one of the girls. I wanted him to see Katherine Pierce, the real me, one I never showed to anyone.

I wanted him to see my selfish side, part of me that would run everyone and everything over to get what I want.

I wanted him to look into my eyes and see my passion and desire, to see every one of my wishes and how all of them include him.

I wanted to tell him I would give myself to him in all the possible ways.

But he went past by me. He smiled at me like he smiles at everyone, and he kissed my hand out of the politeness, and then, he went on.

To her. He stopped by her and gave her one of his devilish grins, he gave her the intimacy of calling him by his first name, and she devoured every of his polite actions hungrily.

What is so special about Elena Gilbert? First Stefan, and now Damon. What is so special about this girl that she captures the attention of two most important men in my life?

I manage to find a way to sit next to Damon, because for now, being in the close proximity is enough.

It's all I could ever ask for.

It's all I'm going to get.

**DAMON'S POV**

It's really lovely to be home. Cheerful people who greet you home like you have changed to world because you ran around with a gun for few months, maids serving you, fulfilling your every wish, they would probably wipe my ass if I ever asked them to, all the luxury blinding my eyes, especially that highly necessary cutlery covered with gold we eat the soup with and cut the meat with.

Bollocks. I hate it here. If it weren't for my brother, I probably wouldn't even come back home, but truth to be told, I have missed him. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be able to call this house a home.

I can't stand these one sided, close minded sheep who smile so much their faces are probably frozen like that by now, and when they do not smile, they look like they're constipated, especially when they're trying to produce their own thought. God forbid any of them ever say something original or new, or actually disagree with one another. Their world would probably shatter into pieces as they exit the cave and discover a whole new world out there. World that does not give a crap about their dances and nice clothes and silverware.

I spent months surrounded by real people who do not behave like they fell out of one of my brothers books, and as soon as I started breathing the same air as these people do, I could have felt them trying to poison me with their ignorance.

I can see they're still enjoying this type of slavery they call serving. They call them maids, house helpers, but all they really are is slaves. Doing their beds, making their meals, doing their laundry, basically taking care of every shit they think they're too good to do by themselves, and all that for a lousy paycheck. And they consider themselves lucky is their employers do not throw rocks at them and call them mean names. We're all people, each and every one of us, we're all capable of same things. Because you have money does not mean you're a cripple. By letting others do everything for you, you're basically telling the whole world you're incapable of trivial things like choosing your own clothes or making your own bed. In my book, that's kind of downgrading. Throughout your life others will downgrade you some, for sure, so why would you do that to yourself?

And when I say they, I do not count my brother among those people. Even though he lives among them, and lives the same way as they do, he's not one of them, and he never was. But he's not like me either. He's a story of his own. I like to think that he's ahead of his time. But he is too shy and too good and too obedient to express his real thoughts and wishes. Even if he had enough courage to do so, I doubt anyone would understand him. People understand me, and they disagree with me, but my brother, no one would have any idea what he's talking about.

He's better than them, he's better than all of us.

I've realized that when we were children, when he chose a girl for his best friend, when he talked about peoples souls and when I caught him surrounded by books. Stefan loves purely and he really does not understand the way world works because he does not live here with us, but in his own version of the world. I tried to clear some things up for him, but when I noticed he does not care, or understands, the word I'm saying, I gave up.

I accepted the fact he's different, and as we were growing up, I was only becoming more proud of him with each passing day. Still am.

So as much as I hate it here, I have my brother. And when I don't, I can make my days enjoyable by drinking in the local pubs, having fun with ladies who offer their services for few coins, and irritating my father until he begs me to go back to the battlefield.

I look around the table, and the first thing I see is Katherine smiling at me.

I know Katherine my whole life. Or better to say, her whole life, since she's younger than me. She's a really nice girl, and everyone know her and Stefan are promised to each other, even though apparently neither of them likes it, but both of them are too much of cowards to say anything about it. I could easily take advantage of Katherine, but I'm not going to, out of one reason and one reason only. Not because I'm such a nice guy, or because she's my brothers girl. Hell, Stefan would probably thank me if I made a move on her and prevented them from being married.

But because Katherine is not a challenge good enough. Too be honest, she's not a challenge at all. She's so hungry of my love, it makes me sick. She thinks I do not notice it, but I do. I can smell it on her, I can see despair in her eyes. She wants love and Damon Salvatore doesn't do love.

She wants me to take her, and I do not want to take anyone. I want someone to give themselves to me. I do not want to own a woman, I do not need a pet, I need my opposite and my partner in the same person. I want someone who would disagree with me and then lie in the bed next to me at night. And the more I search, the more I doubt this person exists.

I move my look to Elena, and I have to say, there's something about her. She's not only beautiful, she also seems very smart and.. different. But not my kind of different, but my brothers kind of different.

When I was talking to her, meeting her, I could have felt Stefan's jealous stare on us. Does my brother like her? I must be out of my mind, because my little brother is promised to another, he would never develop a crush on someone else. If he ever did, with the strength of his mind he would try to make it go away.

I may be a little bit sarcastic, because this is exactly something Stefan would do, and he doesn't even know it yet. He's probably attracted to her and the guilt is eating him from the inside.

And by the way I caught Elena looking at him, he has nothing to worry about, even if I was interested in making a move on her. Her full attention is locked on my brother, and like him, she's probably not even aware of it.

The maids are standing in a straight line in front of the main door, and I know most of these women since early childhood. They're my family as much as my father and brother are. Half of these women raised us, even if our father does not give them credit for doing so.

And then, my look falls on the small, dark skinned girl, with coal black hair and big, deep brown eyes, on the end of the row. She's dressed all in white, and her look is curiously wandering around the room. She looks beautiful, with her curious glossy eyes, thick dark lips reflecting the color of her skin, thick black hair which stands on her head like a shadow, tucked under her white hat. She's so petite, like a bird. And she looks so lost, like she fell out of her nest. Maybe even a little helpless, like she broke her wing.

But there's something about her posture that makes her seem strong, and fearless, like she survived hundred of storms, and like she could survive hundred more.

"Excuse me," I finally say, and everyone's look falls on me, including hers, "But I do not think I know you."

"She came here with Ms. Gilbert," Stefan answers when he notices on whom my look is locked on.

Elena looks at her maid and smiles at her, encouraging her to introduce herself.

"Bonnie Bennett, Sir," she says quietly, through a whisper.

I smirk at her, but she does not blush like other girls do when I smirk at them, so I say, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Bennett."

And in that moment my father shrieks my name, and the whole table jumps a little, including everyone surrounding it. "Where are your manners, boy?" father directs to me angrily. "We address help by their first name, to differentiate them from the ladies."

Oh yes, to differentiate them from the ladies. Well they are different, I'll give him that. They actually make themselves useful and are capable of doing usual housework every person should know how to handle.

"They should also keep quiet until they're asked to speak," I repeat the words my father told me years ago.

"Correct," he says proudly, like his words had finally sunk in my stubborn head.

"That is because you're afraid, father," I say, and I can already feel Stefan kicking my leg with his foot under the table, telling me I should stop before this whole thing goes too far, but even with his warning, I continue, "If they actually had a chance to speak, they would be able to shine some light on your ignorance," and my statement makes the whole room gasp.

I can see big, blue vein on my father's forehead pulsating. I've kinda missed the vein.

Stefan already buried his face in his hands, and I move my look back to Bonnie, and wink at her, but she only lowers her head.

I might have fun around here after all.

* * *

**AN: I do not think you have anything to worry about when it comes to Damon and Elena..**


	5. Chapter 5

**STEFAN'S POV**

Neither Damon or Elena can be calm for too long. Caroline and me, someone could chain us to the bed, and we would not say a word about it. Someone could bury us in a pile of books, and we would only dig ourselves deeper in the hole. But if someone chained either my brother, or Elena, to the bed, they would break the chains with their own teeth, and if someone buried them in a pile of books they would dig themselves out of it with their own two hands, so they can run free.

Maybe that is why I was so enchanted with Elena from the moment I met her, because she reminds me so much of Damon. From the inside, they're so much alike, that if they melted together, no one would notice. And a surge of jealousy goes through me because I want to melt with Elena into one person, and I want to know her as well as I know myself, and I want to be so close to her I can feel the sound of my heart beating inside of her chest.

I want to take her hand in mine and run with her around the world, I want to pull my fingers through her hair and taste her lips, I want to see her dance again, I want her to dance for me and I want to dance with her. I want to feel her touch on my skin, I want us to collide and twirl until fire envelops our bodies and we burn down. I want us to turn into ashes so we can fly on the wigs of the wind and never look back - on this town, on these people.

I want us to find a home, to be lovers, to have a family - my mind is running wild and I feel like I'm getting ahead of myself. I feel like an idiot because she's looking at my brother so curiously while he's telling her war stories, and all the places he has seen, and all the people he has met.

And what do I have to give her? Nothing except words I've read in books that all of a sudden seem so small, seem like nothing, because my brother has a real deal, and I have someone else's thoughts and views and experiences.

I watch them walk in front of me, his eyes are locked on her and she's laughing like laugh was something she discovered five minutes ago, and I want to rip his bloody head off so I can stand into his place and for the sound of my voice to be the cause of her laugh. I slap myself mentally for letting my brain produce such a thought.

I want Elena but I'm stuck with Katherine, Katherine wants Damon but she's stuck with me, Damon wants.. I have no idea what Damon wants, nor do I know what Elena wants. And I feel like a character inside one of my books. I guess that is the point of life, to live through something worth writing down, even though I have always imagined myself as one of the characters who wins the girl, not loses her.

Maybe I'm chasing after the wrong girl.

I hate it. I hate the passion I feel for this girl, pouring through every pore of my body. I hate it because I have never felt this way and I do not have a clue how to deal with this feeling. I can feel her in my bloodstream, and I do not know how she got in there, but all I know is that I can feel her whole being circling inside of me, and whenever I'm near her my heart starts beating faster and my soul becomes playful, and when I wake up in the middle of the night, I can feel her perfume going through the wall that is dividing our bedrooms and invading my brain.

After dinner, we decided to take a walk. Damon wanted to hear about all of the rumors he had missed while he was gone, even though I was trying to inform him about everything in my letters. Him and Elena are walking in the front of us, and I can't help but notice how their shoulders are close together, and the fact she's calling him Damon, but he's still calling her Ms. Gilbert. Her skin is glowing under the sunset, and her smile is getting wider and wider with every new word that comes out of his mouth.

But I also notice how reserved she is near him. She walks quietly, straight ahead, with her hands lingering on the sides of her body, her fingers wrapped around the fabric of her dress, and as she walks next to him, with a stiff body, I realize this is not the woman who swept me off my feet with her playfulness and freedom. Standing next to my brother, she seems.. trapped.

I'm walking behind them, with Katherine on the left side, and Caroline on the right. Katherine is talking about her dress for the upcoming ball, and Caroline is rolling her eyes at every word that comes out of Katherine's mouth. A small smiles creeps on my face out of amusement.

"Your maid has extremely beautiful facial features," I hear Damon saying to Elena, and I wonder what he's up to. It's not like him to compliment people if he can't get something out of it. Every one of Damon's compliments is a trap, when it comes to women. Except for those who would gladly get trapped.

I notice Katherine stopped talking, and when I look at her, her look is fixated on Damon and she's pale. I guess it hurts, when someone you love calls someone, who is in your mind beneath you, beautiful. Someone who serves others, who doesn't have money or nice clothes, someone who doesn't have a family. I can't say I know how Katherine feels, because I do not think of Ms. Bonnie as someone who is beneath me.

"Bonnie is more of a friend than a maid," Elena explains, and I try to catch a glimpse of her face. She does not seem jealous that Damon is giving compliments to other women.

"Oh, so she does not serve you?" Damon's eyes glisten as the though, of someone other than him refusing maid services, crosses his mind.

"Technically, she is," Elena says a little shameful, like she had disappointed him in a way, "But she is so much more," she explains herself.

"Oh," is all Damon says, a little bit disappointed.

They continue walking next to each other, but neither of them says a word. _"Water has a power to turn the fire off when it gets out of control, but nothing hides the flame of fire as well as another fire,"_ I remember my mother's words, and for the first time in my life, I understand what she was talking about.

"Have you noticed how well is your brother dressed tonight?" Elena asks as she twirls around on her heel and turns to me. She has a devilish smile on her face as her eyes wander all over me, out of curiosity, and when she's done, her eyes go back and lock on mine, which is when she blushes.

Damon turns around to look at me. "He became a sharp dresser in the time I was away," he smirks at me before his look falls back on Elena, "Do I have you to thank for this?" he asks, but Elena's eyes do not detach from mine, until I decide to let them go.

"I may have helped a little," she says proudly, even though it's evident she's still under the effect of our recent eye holding. "Now we have to work on his shyness," she giggles lightly as her look goes straight back to me.

Damon slowly forces his gaze on me too, and says, "If my brother had enough courage to speak, he would leave the whole world in awe."

My brother describes me as a coward. Sometimes I think of myself as one too. But I'm not, I'm really not. I simply haven't found a matter worthy enough to express my passion about out loud. Because people would never understand.

If I ever find something worth fighting for, I will not be scared to let the whole world know.

**ELENA'S POV**

As I walk with Damon on the front, once again, I can feel Stefan's gaze piercing through the skin of my back, and I feel like my spine is bending.

I wish Stefan wasn't so insecure. Does our little encounter from few hours ago in his bedroom mean nothing to him? Hadn't he felt it, the surge of energy going through his body when his skin came into contact with mine? That unexplainable warmth inside of his body, the lack of air in his lungs, his heart jumping around like crazy? Because I've felt all of those things, and if such a thing as a soul existed, I would say my flared up from the effect of his touch.

Maybe he hasn't felt anything, maybe it was only me.

But if he did, he needs to realize I want nothing from Damon, nor Damon wants anything from me.

Sometimes I wish Stefan wasn't so shy. Sometimes I wish he would talk more than casually smile at me, and I wish all that theory he has in his head would become practice. I wish all of those things until I remember him being the way he is, is exactly what drew me to him in the first place.

The fact he's different from all the boys I was surrounded by my whole life. He's not one of those guys who would lift your dress up and then blame it on the wind or whistle as you walk down the street. Boys from the city are a lot more cheekier, and somehow, I have a feeling, even if Stefan grew up among them, he would never be one of them. He's not the one to follow the crowd. He's not one of us, he's not one of them, he's simply Stefan. He goes well with himself, which, out of some reason, makes him so much more attractive. The fact there's not one like him, nowhere in the world.

Energy that flows out of him envelops me and I wish I could be his until the end of time.

**CAROLINE'S POV**

All of this amuses me so much. As an innocent bystander, I've noticed more things than people participating in this play have. I'm thankful Elena came to Mystic Falls, her presence shook things up, especially for Stefan. He needed a wake up call, to realize this life he hasn't even signed up for, is not the life he is supposed to live. Stefan deserves more, he deserves everything - love, passion, pain, sorrow - he needs to experience it all in order to find peace, in order to realize what life he's supposed to live. And he's not going to experience that by marrying a person he's not even in love with. Stefan is a very emotional person and he needs to experience every one of these emotions to have a fulfilled life. People around here seem to think emotions are your weakness, but for Stefan, they're his strength. Even as a boy, he was not ashamed to cry, he was not ashamed to express his pleasure and enjoyment over certain things, and he was never ashamed of expressing love to the people towards he felt such a strong emotion.

Elena Gilbert was brought here on the wings of fate to make Stefan see everything he would be missing out on if he ends up marrying someone he's not in love with.

Stefan spent his whole life living inside of these books, reading these stories that are so far away from the life we're living, and now, he's living inside of one of his stories. He's to marry Katherine, but he wants Elena. Katherine's to marry Stefan, but she wants Damon. God knows what Damon wants, because I'm not even sure Damon knows what he wants. And Elena wants Stefan, I only wish he would see that, because I know, if he did, he would do something about it.

I never believed Stefan is scared or passive or a coward. I think he sees, knows and understands more than other people do, and more than he gives himself credit. He knows, if he opened his mouth, and expressed his opinion, no one would understand a thing that comes out of his mouth, at least not anyone from around here. But if he ever found that one thing, one thing that is more than enough to express his opinion about, one thing that makes him weak and strong at the same time, one thing he loves and cares about more than anything in this world, his voice would be louder than roar of the lions.

Elena Gilbert is that thing for him, he only needs to realize it.

Stefan already got burned when he tried to stand up for Damon. To defend him in front of their father, in front of other people. He was screaming from the top of his lungs, but it was like no one could hear him. So after all that time screaming, he lost his voice.

Now he has to find it again.

Even though this whole thing amuses me very much, I wish I could help Stefan. But no one can help Stefan but himself. I could tell him million of times he's the one Elena wants, but until he sets his fear free, he won't see it.

He is convinced Elena wants Damon. I know Stefan well enough that sometimes I'm convinced I can read his mind. I'm surprised that after so many books he has read he still hasn't realized a woman doesn't want a man who makes her feel like a dragon, but who makes her feel like a little girl.

Damon can make every girl giggle as soon as his lips land on the top of her hand, but the smile that appears on Elena's face as soon as her look lands on Stefan is the effect only Stefan can ignite in her.

Even though Katherine is not my favorite person in the world, I feel sorry for her. She's so hopelessly and endlessly in love with Damon, and she thinks no one notices it, but Damon is not going to love her back, ever. I'm not sure he even likes her that much. Damon and me might not be best of friends, but I know him, and in a way, I understand him. Damon does not want something or someone to be thrown at him, he wants the excitement of a chase.

Katherine's never ending yapping about her new ball dress only reminds me of mine still not being done. My dressing taste is impeccable. I'm not being big headed, I really am an amazing dresser, and my dresses always take long to make because they require that much more attention and hard work. I usually have the most beautiful dress, since Katherine is afraid to step out of her safe spot and be a little more daring. But now when Elena is here, I'm doubtful. Her dresses are always magnificent, and she's one of the rare girls who dare to bare their shoulders.

I look at Stefan, and his look is fixated on Elena and his brother. I wish I could push him out of his circle of safety because there is no way he can pull Elena in. If he wants her, he will have to step outside.

**DAMON'S POV**

I lean against a hallway wall and wait for her to come out. I'm not sure when she will come out or will she come out today at all since she has no idea I'm waiting for her because I'm the last person she would ever think of, if she would think about me at all. For a second, I feel silly for waiting her here, because for the first time in my life I have no idea what I'm doing. I do not have any kind of a plan, and I have no idea what would I say if she walked out of her room in this moment. I came here totally unprepared, but something was bugging me to come.

Of course I had to come like this - no plan, no words, no intention - I'm probably going to say or do the wrong thing and screw everything up, like I usually do. I'm a master at ruining things, to be completely honest. It's not something I'm proud of, but it's not something I complain about either. You make one mistake and don't show an amount of regret people expect you to show and soon enough you're labeled like someone who constantly does wrong, so you accept it and you live by it and after some time, you start enjoying it. Maybe because it's the only thing you know how to do - to be wrong - and the only thing you know you're not going to fail at.

But I stay there anyway, leaned against a wall, and stare at some painting at the wall, wondering how much money has my father given for it, and how many hungry mouths could we feed with that money. People are starving, and we have money hanging on our walls, barely aware of its existence.

Door of her bedroom open and she steps outside. I stop leaning casually against a wall, and stand in the middle of the hallway, my shoulders stiff and my hands behind my back, but I refuse to show my nervousness.

She looks at me confused and politely nods at me. She tries to walk past by me, but I block her path. She raises her head an her eyes lock on mine, her beautiful, warm, enormous brown eyes sparkle under this crystal chandelier in the middle of the night, and I can feel how my always cold, devilish blue eyes melt under the intensity of her stare.

"Excuse me, Sir," her small, thick brown lips move and they put me into a trans. I become deaf to any of the words that come out of her mouth, if she says any. I've kissed countless of lips. Five, ten, hundred, I've lost count of it, because none of them mattered. None of them were special, only pleasurable.

I've always envied my brother, but in the same time was proud of him, for keeping his innocence. Katherine tried to make him taste her lips numerous of times, but he had always politely refused her because he's not in love with her. For me, kissing became a trivial thing, the first time I've kissed a woman it was not memorable, because at the time I was too curious to care about my emotional stability. But Stefan, he wants to capture every moment of his life, he wants every moment to be special and done right, and he's careful with actions which have power to turn his life around.

"I need to pass, would you mind moving?" she asks politely, but I can feel irritation in her voice. It makes me smirk.

"Maybe I do not want you to pass," I say casually.

There's a little bit of blush on her dark skin.

"But Ms. Gilbert needs me," she's fairly calm in my presence, which is a weird occurrence for me. Women usually shiver in my presence.

I smirk wider, I can feel the lines of my face stretching. She lowers her head down.

"Maybe I need you more," I say as I put my finger under her chin to lift her head up.

I'm always straight forward, in any kind of situation, because I do not have much to lose, nor do I like to play around.

As I lift her head up, my eyes lock on hers once again, and she holds my stare, until a grin appears on her face.

"In all respect, Mr. Salvatore," she says my name so bitterly I can feel poison in my throat, "But I do not really care about what you need."

My heart skips a beat and confusion flashes before my eyes, but I recollect myself fast, before, hopefully, she notices anything, and a smirk creeps back on my face. She does not care about who I am or what power I have on her. She's not afraid of me nor she's respectful of me since I haven't shown any kind of respect towards her either. And it's refreshing, but also confusing, this lack of power I have over a woman.

"Feisty, I like that in a woman," I say playfully as I step aside but she doesn't continue walking. She smiles lightly while she's staring at me.

"I know about your reputation, Mr. Salvatore," she says with almost accusatory tone of voice.

"Oh," I raise my eyebrow at her, "I can't say I'm surprised, my reputation follows me wherever I go," I try to hide the heaviness of my own voice.

"You think messing with a young, naive maid will be enough to push your father's buttons?" she asks with a serious face expression.

My stare freezes on her. To be completely honest, for the first time in my life, what my father, or anyone else, would think, did not even cross my mind. But if I told her this, would she have believed me? Would anyone?

So I pull a smile across my face, and simply reply, "Maybe," and as she keeps her eyes locked on my face I make a step towards her, take her hand into mine and remove her fingers. Her skin is so sharp on some places I think I'm going to cut myself, but the palm of her hand is as soft as silk. On the open palm of her hand I place a piece of paper, "If you meet me here tomorrow evening, you will find out an answer to that question," and I notice how she loses the air from her lungs. I take this moment to lean towards her, and as my lips scrape against her ear, I whisper, "You should know that people often judge a book by the thickness and the color of its cover, but the weight of the words inside of it might surprise you," and without looking at her face, I walk away.

* * *

**AN: When you're writing an AU fan fiction, you have to alter characters a little, because you create a completely different story where there characters lead different lives and had different experiences, friendships, relationships, sometimes even family situations. When you decide to take something away from a character they're going to be different from their version from the show - if you ignore the flaws in Stefan and Damon's relationship you take something from both of their characters, same happens if you decide not to kill Elena's parents. Yes, I've read Stefan's Diaries, but the person we met there was already someone who was effected by Katherine's presence and his and Damon's relationship was already damaged. In this story I wanted to present Stefan as a boy, or better to say how I imagine him as a boy, a human boy who never went through the changes and experiences he did in the show, and who is basically experiencing his first love. And as much as I change him in some ways, I try to keep his main traits, reason why I fell in love with his character - the way he loves, how honorable he is, what a good friend he is, and how he cares about people, but of course, I can't cramp all of that in one chapter or in five of them. Some of those traits are not going to be visible from the start, like they weren't in a show, it's a process. So I'm awfully sorry if anyone is disappointed by my version of his character.**


	6. Chapter 6

**BONNIE'S POV**

Out of some, to me, unknown reason, I decide to meet Damon.

After I help Elena take her corset off and leave her alone in her bedroom to get ready for bed, I unfold the piece of paper I shoved into the pocket of my dress after Damon had put it on the palm of my hand so gently. Everyone in the house are sound asleep by now, so I sneak downstairs on the tip of my toes, and try to open the front door without making a sound, and somehow, luckily, I succeed. I start walking in the direction of the barn, behind which Damon wrote down he wants us to meet.

Damon is very beautiful, with his slick coal black hair that matches mine and set of sea blue eyes with which he can make you lose the ground you're standing on. His look on you can make you lose your breath and make your whole body shiver, especially when his already devilish look is followed by a crooked smirk on his face, when his thin, pink lips curve into a smile set between heaven and hell. The lines of his face are very strict, like Mr. Salvatore's, but somehow, those stiff lines only make his face look more beautiful. He is also very handsome, he fills out his clothes nicely, and I'm sure the war did him only good in that department. But there's something more about him. I've seen plenty of good looking men while living in the city, the ones courting Elena were especially beautiful, but they've all been lacking that something Damon has. Something that makes you glue your eyes on him and follow his every move, trying to decipher his whole being, his purpose, trying to understand the meaning behind his actions and his words.

When Elena asked me who I find more attractive, Damon or Stefan, I immediately said Damon, to which she knowingly raised her eyebrow at me and smiled. She prefers Stefan, because of his boyish charm, because of his shyness and the fact he can get lost so easily. As much as the two of them are different, they're so much alike, in their minds. Both of them live in their own heads where they had built their own worlds which have nothing to do with the world the rest of us are forced to live in. And to me it seems the parts she is missing he has and the other way around, which makes them fit perfectly together. Sometimes, she is confused by her feelings and occurrences, because to her, they're strange. She's welcoming of the feeling he ignites in her as much as she's afraid of it - the feeling of finally finding a place where she belongs. Elena is a wild one, she always wanted to visit all of the places she can reach by foot or carriage, she wanted to move from one place to another as well as to experience different things in different ways, and now, life brought her here, and because of this man, this boy, she started feeling comfortable. Like she could fall into his arms and stay there forever. Someone who spent her whole life dreaming about wandering all over the world must be frightened of, out of nowhere, feeling like she wants to settle down even before she started moving. I told her their souls are woven out of same cloth, but she does not believe in the existence of a soul.

Damon also has a reputation, a bad reputations. He's known to be arrogant, bad tempered, stubborn, always doing the wrong thing to spite his father, in most cases, and the only person he seems to care about is his brother. He's also known as a ladies man who can sweep you off your feet with his charming gaze and sweet whispers that mean nothing.

Worrying about his behavior never even crossed my mind.

Because I'm a simple maid, and gentleman do not court maids. My mother was a maid too, and she's been working for the Gilbert's her whole life, till the day she died. My father died early on, few years after I was born, and I grew up with Elena and Jeremy, having a privilege to play with them like I'm from their sort. I know some people frowned upon that, but Elena's parents were nice people who cared about their reputation, but cared about their children's well being more. And well being of those who are close to them. Elena and me were friends since our childhood, and continued being ones even when I became her maid, at the age of 14, when my mother passed away. She never required any hard work from me, I mostly help her with dressing up, and some minor chores. She usually confides in me and seeks advice and encourages me to do the same.

I did not want to meet Damon, because I'm fairly sure he's doing all of this to infuriate his father. And I do not want to find myself in the middle of that storm, because I do not want to do anything that could shake Elena's position in the Salvatore household.

But people like Damon have a way of getting under you skin. They have a power of making you question your own judgment and are your decisions right or wrong, and make yourself ask the worst question a person in my position could ask themselves - what if? What if he means more, what if he's offering more, what if I can get more?

When I arrive behind the barn, Damon is already there, calmly leaning against the rose red wooden building and looking at the stars. When he notices I arrived, he pushes himself off the wall and stands on his own two feet, his signature smirk pulled across his face. He starts walking towards me, and when the light of the moon shines on him, I can see the way he's dressed - the suspenders of his pants lingering down his legs, and his vanilla colored button up shirt, that all of a sudden seems too big on him, is missing two or three upper buttons, so I can see his bare chest. His hair is all messed up, he was probably taking a nap or simply lying on the bed before he came here to meet me. And even though he's dressed up messy, his clothes still look better than my maid dress, and all of a sudden I'm ashamed to stand before him.

"To be honest," he says with a smokey voice, and now I'm sure he's been taking a nap before he came here, "I was not sure you're going to come," he comes closer to me, but there's still a decent amount of distance between us, which is much needed.

"I was not sure either," I say honestly, trying to think, if he asks me why did I decide to come here after all, what would I tell him, but out of some reason, I can't form sentences out of bundle of words in my head. When I realize I look like a scared animal standing before my hunter, like I got myself into some kind of a trap, I regain my posture and with a sharp voice ask, "What are we doing here?"

His smirk widens as he stretches his hand out to me and says, "Come with me."

It sounds like an order, and I'm used to taking orders, but for once in my life, I have a power to refuse. I have a power to refuse Damon Salvatore, but as soon as the word no climbs to the tip of my tongue, it rolls back down my throat.

After some hesitation, I put my hand in his, and his fingers envelop around mine as he starts walking and pulls me after him. We walk in silence until we reach the clearing near the woods, where he positions me in front of him and puts his hands on my shoulders, and when his soft lips touch the tip of my ear I jump out of my skin, but his hold on me is too tight, so I can't run away.

"Look," he finally says, pointing with his finger towards the sky. I slowly raise my look up only to see bunch of stars close together. They form a big, shiny ball, and they look like they're crashing into each other. The sky is so bright there, and around the pile of stars there's nothing but darkness. "I come here every night," he whispers into my ear, his hold on me relaxing, his fingers becoming comfortable on my shoulders as they stop being stiff under his touch, "Stefan and me used to sneak out of the house when we were kids only to watch the stars gather into a pile and travel around the sky," I transfer my look to his face, and his smirk is replaced by an honest, warm smile. "My brother used to say the moon is playing with the stars," he smiles even wider, and the way he smiles makes me smile too. I feel like I have no other choice, because my lips curve into a smile without me even realizing it. "After some time, stars became too much of a reality for Stefan, and he doesn't handle reality very well," he says somewhat disappointed, with a sad look on his face, and with his brows furrowed, "But I still come here, every night," a smile creeps back on his face.

"Do you know why this happens?" I ask comfortable, like the position we're assuming now is something we have been doing every day of our life, "Why they gather like this?" I ask curiously.

But Damon shakes his head slowly without detaching his look from the stars. "I never ask myself such questions. World we live in is unpredictable. Always changing. People always want more and different and better, and I find beauty in simplicity."

"Maybe universe is giving you a sign by putting this in your backyard. Don't you ever think about that?" I ask, trying to figure out am I more intrigued by what I see on the sky or by Damon's calm attitude towards it.

I can feel his look being transferred to me. "If the universe wanted to give me a sign, I would have received it," he lets go of my shoulders and I instantly feel like something is missing. I turn around to face him, and his smugly signature smirk is back on his face.

"I have nothing to lose," I swallow, because I actually do have something to lose, but at this moment, there's nothing and no one but Damon parading on my mind, "But you.. you have a lot to lose," I furrow my brows, mad he would throw away the things he was blessed with for a stranger.

He makes one step forward, and I can feel the energy of his body tugging onto my chest. "Your point being?" he asks like he doesn't have a care in the world.

I've heard a lot of things about Damon Salvatore and his ways. But no one ever talks about the warmth of his voice, or the smile he wears when the world is not watching. No one ever talks about how much love he has for his brother or about the way he looks at the world - not with hatred, but with wonder. No one said anything about the knowledge behind his eyes or love behind his lips, because no one was ever interested enough to shatter the mask behind which he's hiding.

"My point is," I stop to fill my lungs with air, "Doing this to prove everyone you're a big bad wolf is not worth losing everything you have," I can feel my voice shaking.

He makes one more step forward, and now he's so close I can feel his breath on my face. "Who ever said I'm doing this to prove anyone anything?" he tilts his head as raises his hand, unties the strings of my hat, and pulls it down my head. My hair, as black as night, falls on my shoulders. It's a little wavy, but not curly, and few strains are touching my, now blushing, cheek, which is not visible due to the color of my skin.

He gasps, and now, I feel like I have power over him, not the other way around.

I smirk. "You're a fool," I say with a deep, determined, strong tone of voice.

He smiles and shrugs as his fingers scrape against my cheek, and I wonder can he notice my blush. "I've been called worse," he replies.

And then, there's silence. The only thing I can hear is the hum of the night, an owl in the distance, our breathing and the sound of my own heart beating. Bum, bum, bum, faster by every passing second.

He makes one more step forward, and his chest is pressing next to mine now. I can feel his heart pounding, trying to escape his chest.

My heart makes one fast beat, then it calms down. As his fingers travel up my arm, and I do not protest, the beating of my heart picks up on its speed.

His head is lowering down.

I want to run, but I want to stay. I want to scream, but I have no voice. I feel like I'm trapped in hell, but it looks like heaven. It's so cold outside, but out of some reason, my skin is burning hot.

Our noses touch.

His lips capture mine. I am trapped. My heart is behaving like a wild animal, but my body is perfectly calm. My brain is screaming danger, but my body does not listen to it.

The taste of his lips is so sweet.

I close my eyes.

His tongue parts my lips.

My knees are shaking.

Since when does it feel this good to be powerless?

**STEFAN'S POV**

I enjoy watching her. Caroline says it's creepy and strange, but I enjoy watching her from a distance. When she's free and herself and doesn't know anyone is watching her every move, so she's relaxed, natural. She's sitting by the desk in the living room with a piece of paper in front of her and a quill in her hand, and there's a confused expression on her face. She runs her thumb over her lips few times and then furrows her brows and huffs before she writes something down, and she looks incredibly cute while doing so.

After some time, watching her, but not being in her presence, starts hurting me physically.

I step into the living room quietly, and as if she can feel my presence she lifts her look up and locks it on my face, all while smiling cheerfully. I smile back at her, genuinely with a smile I keep especially for her.

She parts her lips, but before any sound comes out of her throat, I ask, "Ms. Gilbert, would you like to join me for a walk?" I ask, afraid of her rejection.

Confusion washes all over her face, but soon enough it's replaced with a warm smile, and she nods, "I would like that, very much," she responds.

My heart skips a beat. When it comes to her, littlest things can make me happy. When our eyes lock, when she smiles, when a strain of hair falls over her face and she pushes it away so gently, when he talks to me or walks near me, so I can feel her presence and the energy of her body.

I wait for her while she's putting her things away. It takes only few minutes, but waiting for her seems like a lifetime. When she's finally done, she walks towards me with a smile on her face, and I point her to the front door. She walks out and I follow her.

As she walks down the lane, she looks like she's dancing on sunlight and playing with the wind. We're silent, but I feel like I've told her everything that's on my mind. I feel like she understands what I want to say without me actually saying a word.

"With what intention have you invited me for a walk?" she asks and breaks the pleasurable silence between us.

I turn my confused look towards her, and in this moment, I want to say something like _"Can't I invite a beautiful woman like yourself for a walk without any following intentions?"_, but that is so Damon like, and even though the words cross my mind, they refuse to come out of my mouth.

"It's a beautiful day outside, so I thought you might enjoy a walk," I reply in my boring, predictable, not at all flattering, Stefan like way.

"So nice of you to think about me, Mr. Salvatore, " she replies warmly.

If only she knew how often I think about her, and how often she visits my dreams. Dreaming is a form of thinking, anyway. A form of wishing.

I lick my lips. "You know, you can call me Stefan," I say daringly.

She shots me an unreadable look and my heart stops beating. She looks like she's horrified of my proposition, to share such level of intimacy with me, intimacy she gladly shares with my brother, and probably with Bonnie, when they're alone.

"Why?" she asks, "Because I call your brother by his first name?" she cocks her eyebrow at me, and all of sudden I feel naked in front of her. I feel like she peeked into my mind and stripped me all of my insecurities, laying them out for the world to see.

My mouth is dry and there are no words on my mind, I'm tabula rasa. I'm staring at her and she's staring and me and once she finally realizes I have no answer prepared for her, she asks me, "Do you fear I enjoy your brother's company more than yours?" she furrows her brows.

It's like she's reading my mind, like she's exploring every fiber of my being and converting it into words, and it doesn't take long for me to say one silent, dry, "Yes."

She sighs loudly before she detaches her look from mine and starts walking straight forward. "Well, I don't," she says somewhat nervously, her fingers clutching to her dress, "And I'm a little disappointed you would think otherwise," she huffs. Her shoulders are stiff, and she's so tense. "I like you very much," she finally stops walking and turns around to face me, "Maybe even a little bit more than I should," she admits, locking her eyes on mine.

My heart is beating playfully, excitement and fear circling through my body, all mixed into one, when the reality of her words hits me. Should I say something too? Should I admit I'm fond of her too? That I like her a bit too much than a man in my position should?

That I feel like there's an invisible string connecting us?

"And I happen to like this playful banter between us," a warm smile appears on her face. "I like how you blush when I make inappropriate suggestions or how you get lost in your own words because you have too much to say but you don't know what to say first," she explains, and for the first time in my life, I feel like someone understands me.

Caroline and Damon always accepted me for who I am, but they never understood me, not really, not fully. But Elena, she understands how my mind works, and she accepts it.

The things I thought were my faults, things I thought make me a coward, are the things she enjoys in me, and because of that, my heart is pounding wildly, and for the first time in a long time, I can feel my soul inside of me body, warming me up, alerting me of its existence.

"Damon's stories fascinate me. He's seen things, he has experienced them, but I've met plenty of men like him and there's a reason why I never accepted any of their proposals," she blushes, looking away from me, "They make an amazing friend, but a bad partner, if you're not of their sort. There are people who are made strong enough to handle their wild personalities, and I'm not one of those people," she looks back at me, and her eyes glisten, "And you, Mr. Salvatore? How do you feel about me?" she asks hopefully, and I can feel a tight lump inside of my throat.

"I like you," I say, swallowing hard, but without giving it a second thought, "A lot more than I should," I continue after catching my breath, but this time, without any fear, because Elena Gilbert is someone worth fighting for.

As I say so, her eyes light up, and her whole being smiles.

**ELENA'S POV**

"Where would you like to go, Mr. Salvatore?" I ask as I take my blushing look away from him and start walking down the lane. I can hear his footsteps behind me, and in only few seconds time he catches my pace, and starts walking next to me. I make myself raise my head to look at him and there's a confused expression on his face.

"What do you mean?" he furrows his brows out of confusion as he looks at me.

I'm still giddy because of his latest confession. I feel like throwing my arms around him and pulling him into a deep, playful hug, partly out of happiness, partly because I want to feel his body pressing next to mine. For the longest time I was afraid my feelings are one sided, because I do not think I would have been able to handle that. To accept the fact these mind and body consuming feelings that are enveloping my whole being are only a product of my imagination.

"Cities, countries, all of the places you can think of," I say happily, excitedly, "Where would you like to go?" I pull a wide smile across my face.

But I wonder, what now? Now when we confessed our feelings towards each other, now when both of us are aware we feel something that exceeds the limits of friendship, what are we going to do about it? Are we going to do anything about it, or are our confessions the last thing we're going to do about us?

"Nowhere, I like it here," he responds truthfully, "Everything I need I have here," I shot him a confused look, but then, he smiles at me so sweetly and says, "Everything I want I have here," and I blush over the intensity of his words. I do not blush often, I'm usually the one who makes others blush, but there's something about Stefan that makes me act like a little girl.

I wish we live in a different world, where we can decide who we want to marry, who we want to be with. I wish our futures are not dictated by our parents, but that our futures are based on our own wishes and decisions. I wish others would stop thinking they know what's best for us only because they have couple of years in front of us.

But if we lived in a different world, would Stefan and me feel towards each other like we do now?

Sometimes, I wish we're different people. I wish I had enough courage to do all of the things I dream of doing, and I wish Stefan ever thought of doing them with me.

But if we were different people, would we feel towards each other like we do now?

"There's a whole world outside of Mystic Falls, you know?" his eyes lock on me, and he looks at me with such interest on his face, "Things you never dreamed of seeing," a smile appears on my face. "Different people. Different traditions. Different ways. Everything is new and different," I furrow my brows at my own words, "Not necessarily better, but different nevertheless," I look at him, and he's already looking at me with a look which I cannot read, "Don't they write about it in your books?" I ask curiously.

He shakes his head. "In my books, they write about happiness, love, want, need, passion," he swallows before the next words come out of his mouth, "Sometimes even lust. Can I find that in the places you're talking about?"

I huff. "Love is everywhere, Mr. Salvatore, if your heart is open wide enough to see it," he caresses my face with his look.

"I thought you do not believe in love," he smiles at me.

"I do believe love happens," I admit, lowering my look down, "I simply do not believe it will happen to me."

When he's silent, I raise my look up, and catch him looking at me pitifully.

But then, he smiles at me and says, "Who knows, maybe, out of all the places you want to visit, Mystic Falls surprises you."

* * *

**AN: Damon and Bonnie? Stefan and Elena revealing their feelings for each other. I hope you've enjoyed the chapter, be sure to tell me your opinions! :)**

**I hope, all of you who celebrate, had a wonderful Christmas, and have a blessed rest of your holidays! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**ELENA'S POV**

Women wear too much clothes, which is quite heavy. Sometimes I'm tired from an ordinary walk, because it's hard for my body to support every piece of clothing I'm wearing. It's especially hard to dance in it, which makes me quite sad. I wish I could dance in my nightgown, or at least something lighter than the big dress which is required from me to wear.

But other than the heaviness of it, I enjoy my clothes. I love dresses, mother had a whole bunch of them made for me, so I think I won't need anymore dresses until I marry.

I'm standing in front of a mirror which is attached to the vanity table in my room, in nothing but my bloomers covered with little beige bows, mother always used to say undergarments with supplements are much more feminine than the ordinary ones. I'm wearing an ordinary white underskirt above my bloomers, and Bonnie is helping me tie up my newest soft pink corset. Every time she pulls strings on my back, I lose a little bit of air from my lungs. My back are hurting, but thankfully, I can feel her tying the strings on the top of the corset, which means we're almost done.

I'm getting ready for the annual Spring ball Salvatore's are hosting in their mansion. I can't wait to spend my evening dancing in their ballroom, because it looks quite magnificent. I saw it only once, when I arrived here and they were showing me through the house. But this is the first ball they're hosting since my arrival, and I really can't wait to dance the night away, because I haven't danced in quite some time.

I haven't felt like dancing, either.

But now I do. Since I came here, since I inhaled the scent of new life, new people, my spirit rose up, and I'm not as sad as I used to be after my parent's death. I thought you never stop being sad after such sadness instills itself in your life, but I guess I found a medicine that worked like a charm, and I'm back on my feet.

I still miss my family. My parents, and my brother. But I'm not crippled with missing them anymore. Sometimes my heart clenches and I feel like crying, but there are also times when I have a genuine reason to smile.

It was so nice from Damon to offer to take me to the ball, I would be quite ashamed if I had to go alone. Stefan said he could find me an escort, one of his childhood friends, one of the men he knows are decent, since I do not know many people around here, but I told him Damon already offered to take me, and I accepted his offer. He flinched a little, but there wasn't so much sadness in his eyes as it used to be before when his brother and me were mentioned in the same sentence. I think he became more confident, and less worried, since our little talk from the other day.

And he should be, since the truth is, I would give everything to go with Stefan to this ball. For him to put his arm in mine and brings me to the ballroom, introduces me to everyone he finds relevant, and dances with me whenever he gets a chance.

I would give anything for him to lead me through every dance we're about to dance tonight, and I would give everything to feel his hands on my body.

But he is taking Katherine, because it is proper.

Sometimes I think me and Katherine would be the happiest if we could switch the brothers without anyone noticing.

I felt a little guilty after accepting Damon's offer, because at the time he asked me, all I could see was Stefan's face and hear Stefan's voice, so in a way, I imagined I'm saying yes to him.

After Bonnie is done with adjusting my corset, she leaves me all alone in my bedroom so I can put my dress on. I decided to wear the last dress that was made for me, one made for a ball I never got a chance to attend due to my family situation and me moving here.

The skirt of my dress is in a shape of a bell, it is really wide and made out of heavy white silk which is covered by soft, almost plushy, pink lace in a floral pattern. The top of the dress is white, but also covered in pink lace, with short sleeves which leave the better part of my arms, and my shoulders, bare. When I finally get in the dress, I realize the dress has a low neckline, and since the corset tightened me, my bosom is popping right out of my dress, and every time I glance down, I feel a little bit uncomfortable.

But I also can't help but think, what would Stefan think about it?

Bonnie also helped me pick my hair up, because she said, in such occasion, and with a dress I chose to wear, wearing my hair up is a better choice. Plus, it shows my neck, and everyone say I have a beautiful, long neck, so it's only a bonus.

Bonnie is quiet these days, she's mostly stuck in her room, unless I need her services. If I did not know any better, I would say she's avoiding someone. Naturally, when I noticed a chance in her behavior, I asked her what's wrong, and she replied she's only tired. I do not believe her, but I also do not want to push it. When she's ready to tell me, and if there's a need to tell me, she will. She knows she can confide in me and trust me with her secrets.

I put a wine color lipstick on my lips, and a little bit of blush on my cheeks, which usually matches my natural blush. I also spray myself with few drops of oil of lemongrass, on my wrists, sides of my neck, and under my collar bones, like mother had taught me. I slip on my silky, white gloves and move to the bed, sit in the edge of it, and wait for Damon to come to pick me up and take downstairs.

And all of a sudden, I start thinking about the possibility of love, and when did I develop such aversion towards it. I was brought up by two loving people who gave me everything I needed, and wanted, and who had a happy and functional marriage. I've heard stories about people who get trapped inside of an unloving marriage and who spend their whole lives wondering about the beauty of love and how would it be to experience it, but I never witnessed it. And if I did, I did not know I'm in its presence.

I grew up surrounded by love, and somehow, I do not believe in its existence. My thoughts and beliefs do not reflect the life I'm living, because I do not have a reason to not believe in the existence of love.

I was always afraid of someone not falling in love with me, and me not loving someone back. I was always afraid of becoming an old maid who could not get a man fall in love with her. Maybe, over time, that fear started overruling me, and it shaped my opinion. Maybe I was so hasty to throw love away because I was afraid I could never have it.

But now.. now, things are different.

And as Stefan flashes before my eyes, I blush.

I close my eyes and try to imagine him. His messy hair, like in a boy, wandering eyes, always wandering everywhere, especially around my body, up to my face, so curious, full of life, ready for an adventure, and his lips, always curved into an angelic smile. His blood red lips, so inviting, but so forbidden.

His hands, his soft skin, his magnetizing touch. But he's so inexperienced. But then again, so am I. Well then, who would take the lead?

If only he could caress me with his mind.

I close my eyes tighter, and bite my lower lip. There's a wave of heath traveling all over my body.

My train of thoughts is interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

**STEFAN'S POV**

I never saw a point in these kinds of social gatherings. Ball is probably the most boring occasion our society could ever think of. It is an excuse for women to dress into beautiful dresses and make men, who usually hate dancing, dance, to gossip everyone they don't like, and find an excuse to gossip about those they do like.

I hate dancing. I have never dance in my life. Damon says I have two right legs.

My mother loved to dance. Which is why father is still hosting these balls, few times a year - because mother started the tradition, while she was alive, and this is his way of keeping the memory of her alive.

That is the only reason why I'm attending these balls, because I have few memories of my mother, and the most vivid one is of her dancing. I especially remember a Winter ball, the last one she attended before she got sick. I only turned four, and before the ball started, she had put Damon and me in bed. But I was too curious to stay in bed while something unknown was happening downstairs, the sound of people laughing, the music, loud footsteps on the floor would not let me sleep. So I sneaked out of my bedroom, and from the bottom stair watched people dance through the half opened door of the ballroom. Then, all of a sudden, the music stopped, and mother and father moved to the center of the ballroom. I vividly remember her dress, its icy blue color, how wide it was, and how it was scraping against the floor, following her gracious movements. Father stretched his hand out to her, and she had put hers, covered with snow white satin glove, on his, and they danced. From a very early age I knew dancing is something I will not enjoy, but there was something about seeing my mother move around the dance floor, something so out of this world. The way she was looking at father, like he is the most precious thing she ever held in her arms, and the way her feet moved, like she's flying. Soon enough, everyone else joined them on the dance floor, but no one looked as beautiful as my mother did. To this day, I haven't seen anyone as beautiful as my mother was that night on the dance floor, nor have I ever seen anyone so happy simply because they're dancing.

And to this day, I do not understand that happiness. Part of me fears I never will.

Katherine is standing next to me, chatting with some friends of hers. I've heard few of them saying how lucky she is to be here with me, and I chuckled, because I know Katherine is forced to be here with me. She would much rather be here with my brother. But she glances at me and giggles and tells her friends she knows how lucky she is, and that is when I realize what good of an actress Katherine is. She almost got me fooled, because she sounded so sincere.

Caroline came here with Tyler Lockwood, and she's wearing him under her hand like he's an accessories. She looks truly beautiful, as always, and I'm not talking about the luxurious gown on her body, but the glistening smile on her face. I will never understand what she sees in Tyler Lockwood. But then again, I do not know him very well. I remember him as a kid who scared me with stories about monsters and old tales his father had told him.

They say your older sibling is supposed to do such a thing - scare you. They say that is what their older brothers did to them, prepared them for life by using fear. To me, that is pure nonsense. Older siblings should protect you from these sorts of things, not instill more fear into you. So I'm glad Damon just sat there and nodded at me at the times when he didn't understand me.

When I think I will pass out from boredom, she walks in, or better to say my brother walks in with her under his hand. Everyone stop talking, they drop their conversations and usual chats, and everyone look at them. Everyone look at my brother, who was never looked at with approval like he is now, and all of a sudden, standing next to her, in their eyes, he is better and worthy. And the truth is, there is no way for Damon to be better than he is now, simply being himself.

I can hear people murmuring about Elena, how beautiful she is, how they knew her parents and what good people they were, how she was faced with tragedy so early in her life and how she should marry Damon because they doubt anyone else would want to marry an orphan. Everyone are enchanted with her, everyone want to meet her, talk to her, get to know her, because she's the only person here no one knows. This is what happens when someone new arrives in small places like Mystic Falls.

Everyone want to meet her because she's new and unfamiliar and different but no one actually knows, or cares, how beautiful she is from the inside as well as from the outside. No one knows the effect she can have on people, I'm not even sure she's aware of it herself. No one knows the impact her words can have on you, or the intensity of her stare. No one cares for the fake smiles she thinks no one notices, and no one cares that behind her eyes, you can see a whole new world, and all of a sudden, I do not feel selfish for wanting to take her away from everyone and have her all for myself, because I care for all the tears and smiles.

A surge of jealousy flashes through me as my brother pulls her closer to himself, and I realize I am not jealous of my brother, I would be jealous of any man in his position, of everyone who get to enjoy her presence instead of me.

She is blushing, and I can only imagine how uncomfortable she must feel, with all those eyes glued on her. Her look is wandering all over the room, and when it finally falls on me, she smiles. I smile back as she nudges Damon and they start walking in our direction.

"Wow," Caroline appears next to me and whispers into my ear, and I simply know she's referring to Elena, because I refuse to believe anything else in the room would ignite such a reaction in my friend.

"Exactly," I lean in to whisper in her ear, and she giggles.

"Ms. Forbes, you look like a dream," Damon says smugly as soon as him and Elena join us. He looks at Caroline, waiting for her reaction, because he knows he must have annoyed her with his comment.

I can hear Caroline gritting her teeth before she replies, with a caring voice, but yet with a mean streak, "And you look like a nightmare, as always," she smiles at him widely, and I chuckle silently, alongside Elena, as Damon furrows his brows, but smirks at her anyway.

"Mrs. Pierce, you look lovely," Elena finally says, which is when I realize Katherine is still standing next to me. I look at her, and I notice she has a hard time acting like she's not surprised. I guess she did not know Damon is taking Elena to the ball. There's also a certain amount of anger and sadness behind her eyes and it takes some time for Katherine to smile warmly and express her thanks and praise Elena's dress as well.

Then, she shifts her look at me, and I freeze. "Mr. Salvatore," my name rolls down her tongue so deliciously as she flirts with me with her eyes, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

Before I get a chance to say anything, my brother intertwines, "Doubt so, Stefan hates anything that has to do with dancing."

Elena looks at me, a little disappointed, since my brother so casually informed her I hate everything that has to do with one of her greatest passions. But then again, how could Damon ever possibly know what Elena enjoys?

"You never dance?" she asks as she pulls her hand from under Damon's arm, and covers it with her own.

I shake my head, scared I will disappoint her, but I also want to be honest with her. "No," I reply simply, lowering my head.

"But who Ms. Pierce dances with then?" she asks curiously.

"Do not worry about me," Katherine says casually, "I always find someone willing enough to dance with me," she giggles.

Elena smiles as she says, "I would be more than glad to lend you Mr. Salvatore over here," and as those words come out of her mouth I raise my head and wonder did she say them on purpose.

Katherine's eyes glisten, and Damon's look falls on Elena, confused and surprised, in the moment when the music starts playing. "Maybe later," Damon says as he clears his throat through a cough, "Now, I would love to dance with you," he stretches his hand out to her, and she puts her in his.

I watch him lead her to the dance floor, and as they blend with the crowd, I sigh.

I catch glimpses of them dancing between other people, I can see her dress scraping against a floor and twirling around her body, I can see Damon's hand on her waist and how tightly he's holding on to her, and she's laughing, and all of a sudden the whole room is spinning and there's no air in my lungs.

"You know," I hear Caroline whispering into my ear, "Maybe you do not have to worry about Damon, but there are a lot of other men who would kill for a woman like her," and she points to the group of boys our age, standing in the corner of the room, watching Elena and my brother dance, and whispering something among themselves with a smirk on their faces. "Maybe you should do something about that," she taps my back gently before she walks away.

I swallow and look at Elena and she's smiling and enjoying herself and she looks beautiful.

And all I can think is how the image of my mother dancing found itself a competition.

**ELENA'S POV**

Dancing with Damon was like dancing with all the other men I've danced with in my life. When the music stops, I do not feel sad that the dance has to end, because my feet really do not feel like dancing anymore. And every time it happens, I remember my mothers words - when she danced with my father, she knew he's the man she's going to spend the rest of her life with, because with him, the music never stopped, and she felt like dancing with him for an eternity.

I'm quite disappointed Stefan doesn't dance. I'm angry he's here with Katherine and not with me. I know it makes me sound spoiled, but I'm angry I can't get what I want, simply because I'm not really used to it. If Stefan danced, I could make Damon dance with Katherine, give her what she really wants even if it is for few minutes, and use that as an excuse to dance with Stefan.

When the dance ended, I tried to find Stefan. Damon kept introducing me to almost everyone in the room, because apparently, everyone wanted to know everything about me, and now I can't connect all the names to all the faces. As I kept shaking their hands, and receiving their condolences for my parents death and compliments about my beauty, my eyes were wandering all over the room looking for someone no one would have ever guessed I'm looking for. Because I'm here with Damon, the brother everyone wants.

But I do not want Damon, I want Stefan. If I'm in his presence, that's enough for me.

And in the moment I give up, I can feel someone behind me, and I can guess it's Stefan. Because this is his warm breath on the back of my neck, and I can feel the energy of his body playing with mine as he says, "Ms. Gilbert," he says my name so sweetly as a smile creeps on my face and I turn around, only to catch him in front of me with his hand outstretched to me, "Could I have this dance?" he asks like a gentleman he is.

I am shocked, surprised, confused. I can feel people staring at us, whispering something, some even giggling. Is it because I'm here with Damon and he's here with Katherine? Is it because everyone know Katherine and Stefan are promised to each other? Is it because they thought Damon is the one I want? Or is it because everyone know Stefan does not dance?

He is standing in front of me, patiently waiting for my answer, fear lurking behind his eyes.

I smirk at him. "I thought Stefan Salvatore doesn't dance," I say his first name out loud for the first time, and I can feel my throat closing as his eyes fire up.

He smirks right back at me and replies, "He decided to make an exception," somehow, he finds the right words to say, just as I think he could never succeed in that.

I lift my hand slowly and place it into his, and as his fingers envelop over my hand, I can feel him feeling up the fabric of the glove on my hand, and in that moment I regret wearing a glove at all, because my skin can't come in contact with his.

I can hear people laughing, whispering, I can feel eyes on us, as we're moving through the crowd, as he's leading me to the dance floor. We find a spot in the middle and, as we arrive, the music starts playing.

I look into his eyes, and there's fear in them. He looks lost, reminds me of a child, like he doesn't know what he's supposed to do. He's still holding my hand in his, and he's gripping it tightly. Before I find enough courage to lead him through it all, he lifts our hands in the air, and puts his other hand on my waist, and before I know it, we're dancing.

My mind is foggy. I try to recognize the music, but I'm unable to. Mozart, Chopin, Wagner? In this moment, all of those music classes drop into the water, because every one of those composers sound the same in my head.

His eyes are on me, and I'm aware that I'm looking at his lips, but at the same time, I can't seem to look away. His hand is tightly gripping mine, and his other hand is wandering all over my waist, his thumb brushing against my hips.

"Have you ever been kissed?" he whispers into my ear as we move through the crowd.

I feel like my feet are detaching themselves from the ground.

His questions surprised me and my chest lifts up highly, my bosom touching his chest.

"No," I whisper back, my voice jumping a little.

He inhales deeply, sighing silently. "Neither have I," he confesses, but I could have guessed as much, "But I really want to kiss you," he says.

His confession startles me a little, because a kiss would be something new, unknown, strange. As much as I want to discover new things, I'm scared of them too. But the thought of kissing Stefan is almost too heavenly to bare.

"I think your lips taste like a strawberry cake," he says casually and I giggle.

"Is a strawberry cake your favorite?" I dare to ask.

"Oh yes," I can see him smile as he replies.

"So why don't you taste them?" my throat tightens and air escapes my lungs as those words come out of my mouth.

A smile disappears from his face. "Everyone are watching," he says seriously.

"Are you afraid of what others would think?" I furrow my brows.

A smirk creeps on his face as he shakes his head. "No," he replies, "But I've thought about kissing you for such a long time. It would be a waste to share such an intimate moment with others," he leans down to whisper those words in my ear, and I can feel his breath on the tip of my ear.

How long have we been dancing? Five minutes? Ten? Or has it been forever?

I've lost the track of time.

My feet hurt but I feel like dancing some more. I feel like we have danced all the way around the world and are about to start another circle.

I simply want to keep dancing so I can feel him this close to me.

Music could stop now, but I wouldn't notice, because I've created my own inside of my head.

Is this how falling in love feels like?

**STEFAN'S POV**

For a moment, I forget what's right and what's wrong, what I should do and what's expected from me to do, and I do one thing I want to do. One thing I wanted to do for weeks, and now when I'm doing it, I don't want to stop. I'm holding Elena Gilbert in my arms, I'm twirling her around the room, she's smiling at me, because of me, with me, and the whole world disappears.

I never wanted to dance before in my life, and now I don't want to stop.

Her hand is in mine, and all I can feel is the silk of her glove, which is not that far from the way her skin feels like. My hands are sweating, and I know my other hand is wandering over her back, on her waist, her hips, she's not complaining and I can't seem to stop.

I look into her eyes, and I feel like I can see my own reflection in them. All the fear caused by the world around us, slow realization of the consequences we're probably going to endure, but also excitement and happiness of doing something we wanted to do for such a long time.

She looks truly beautiful while she's dancing. It's like she was born to dance, and maybe she learned how to do it even before she learned how to walk. She seems to be in her natural element.

My father is probably watching us disapprovingly, Caroline is most likely smirking proudly, Damon's face expression is probably unreadable, as always, and Katherine feels humiliated.

I should have thought about her feelings, about the rumors, about consequences, but I didn't. I should have done the right thing and asked Katherine to dance with me, but I didn't. Because I did not want to. I wanted to do something wrong and disapproving, so I did, and it feels good. It feels good to do something you want to do and not something others want you to do.

Her hair is up so I have a perfect view of her neck, her cheeks are wine red, her eyes are big and glistening, they're also locked on mine, her lips are inviting as much as they're forbidden, her body pressing next to mine feels more right than wrong, and holding her in my arms feels so natural, like I've been doing it since the beginning of time..

"The music stopped," I finally say, but I do not let go of her.

She shots me a confused look. "Huh?" rolls silently down her tongue.

She looks beautiful.

"The music, it stopped, the dance is over," I start pulling my hands back, slowly, and she flinches.

"Oh," she says silently, "I haven't even noticed," and she smiles in a way only she knows how.

And as she does, I swear, I can feel I'm falling in love.

* * *

**AN: It was time Stefan did something for himself.**


	8. Chapter 8

**DAMON'S POV**

I lie in my bed, wide awake, with my eyes glued to the ceiling. It must be at least three o'clock in the morning, and I can't force myself to sleep. Air is humid, I must have opened, then closed the window, for at least hundred of times, but I can't decide which is worse - having no air, or hot air stuffing my nostrils like smoke without scent. I've pushed the covers off my body, and sprawled myself across the bed.

I can't stop thinking about her soft lips. About their pink color and sugar flavor. I can't forget how the sugar on her lips glued mine on hers and I could not let go. I did not want to let go, because after all of the lips I've kissed, the ones that burned mine like acid, I finally tasted the ones I want to come back to. Ones I would not mind kissing over and over again, day after day, year after year, for an eternity.

I remember how it felt to kiss her. The image is perfectly instilled in my memory, her black, wavy hair in between my fingertips, the fingers of my other hand feeling up the skin of arm, going up and down, following the lines of it. My lips only scraped against hers at first, but then, when she did not pull back, they landed on hers fully. At first, it was weird and uncomfortable, because I have not felt that lusting, all consuming feeling in my chest I usually feel, but as I kept my lips pressed on hers, I felt electricity on my skin, and energy flowing inside of my body, warming me, lifting my spirits up. It felt like my heart was stuck inside of my throat, and she shivered under my touch, shivered so hard that at certain times I thought she will fall apart.

Before I even had a chance to put my arms around her and pull her closer to me, she started wiggling like a trapped animal, trying to separate her lips from mine. I had a feeling she's fighting herself, like a part of her wanted to continue kissing me, but the other part wanted to stop. She had put her hands on my chest and pushed me away, or pushed herself away from me, and in time I opened my eyes, she was already running towards the house. I wanted to follow her, every instinct told me to go after her, every fiber of my being was pushing me towards her, and even though my brain was shouting at me to run, my legs wouldn't move.

She's avoiding me, I'm sure of it, because I haven't seen her forever since. Elena mentioned how worried she's for her, because she doesn't come out of her room unless Elena calls for her. And she was genuinely worried, which makes me believe Bonnie hasn't mentioned anything to Elena.

As I remember my brother dancing with Elena, a smile creeps on my face. When I heard the question coming out of my brother's mouth, I was fairly surprised, not only because I did not think my brother has it in him, but because I thought there's not a thing in this world that could make him dance. Apparently, I was wrong.

I wish I had his courage. I know my brother views me as someone fearless, who doesn't have a care in the world, who does not think about the consequences, or doesn't care about them. It is easy to break the small rules, to run over things that don't matter, to put things that have no importance to you on fire. I'm an expert at breaking million little rules without flinching, but when it comes to the big things - I'm smaller than a poppy seed.

When something matters, I shiver under the intensity of it. And she matters, and as much as I don't care about myself, I care about her, and I don't want to see her get hurt.

My brother is loud about the stuff that matter. He was loud when everyone were attacking me, and he is loud now, when it comes to Elena. He may be scared of the million little things, but when the big thing comes, he steps in front of it like a giant, not letting its size scare him, because importance of it is too big to ignore.

I exhale loudly and close my eyes in hope, if I try hard enough, I will see her face.

**STEFAN'S POV**

It's usually not this hot during Spring. Days are warm, bright, sunny, enjoyable, and nights are refreshing. But tonight, the air is humid, stuffy, hard to inhale, and it's keeping my eyelids open. I threw all of the blankets off my bed because they're burning my skin. It must be close to morning, since I can see night disappearing, and light crawling into my room through half opened curtains on my window.

I decide to get up. I can feel the back of my pajama top is wet, and it's sticking to my skin, as well as to the sheets of the bed. I walk over to the window, because I hope, now when the dawn has come, air will become more pleasurable. I move the curtains to the side and stick my nose out of the window. I inhale deeply as I look down, and that is when I see her.

She has her dress in between her fingertips, high above the ground so she doesn't step on it, since she's walking really fast down the lane. Her hair is wavy and sprawled across her back, and she's walking straight forward, in a hurry, without taking a second to look back.

I wonder where she's going. I doubt she wants to be disturbed, and by the speed of her movements I doubt she wants to be seen either. But I have seen her, and I'm curious what she's up to in this hour. So in hurry I take of my pajamas and throw them on the bed, hoping Jenna won't come in to wake me up and find my room in such a mess. I put on a pair of pants and a simple button up shirt whose buttons I do not even button up to the end, and my every day shoes that feel uncomfortable on my bare feet but I have no time to put sucks on, or I'll lose the sight of Elena. My hair is probably a mess and my face is pale and tired, but I have no time to worry about that, and I hope no one will see me. On the tip of my toes I go down the stairs, and carefully, slowly and most importantly, silently, I open the front door and step on the porch.

I start running down the lane, and I can see Elena in a distance. By now, she's already walking across the lawn, but I still can't figure out where she's going, I only pray to God she doesn't notice I'm following her. I feel guilty for walking in her shadows, to follow her without her knowledge, especially if she doesn't want to be followed. Every ounce of morality my body holds is telling me this is a bad idea. That this is not the right thing to do.

Maybe I've been breaking the rules a little bit too much recently. If I do it so often, I will forget it's rule breaking, since it will become a normal thing for me. I will lose that feeling of doing something for myself because I will start doing something for myself all the time, and I don't want to become that selfish.

But for a moment, I have a feeling like I have no control over my body. Even after this realization, my legs keep moving, even when I want to stop them, they keep moving, faster and faster. Until it's too late to stop.

When I reach the clearing and when I'm only few steps behind her, I slow down because I do not want to catch up with her, I want to keep my distance, and I continue following her silently.

We walk for few minutes, her slowing down with every step she makes, she's probably tired. When we reach the quarry, which is when she lets go of her dress, and sighs. At least that's what it looks like from here. I hide behind a large bush so she doesn't notice me, in case she turns around to make sure no one was following her.

I stand there, patiently waiting for her next move. I wonder what she's going to do now. Maybe she's only enjoying the view, because behind the quarry, there is sun coming up, and it looks like it's coming out from the water. The reflection of the sun is in the water, and it painted it in red, orange and yellow colors, and at places it looks like the water is burning.

I wonder is there anything strong enough to burn the water, or does the water always put the fire out.

I refuse to believe she was hurrying only to see the sun come up, because the sun will remain in similar position to this for at least an hour more.

And then, she takes her hair and pushes it, over her shoulder, to the front of her body.

She puts one of her fingers under the short sleeve of her dress and pulls her arm out of the sleeve. I examine how skinny her arm is - if wind blew any harder, it would probably flaunt on it, like a flag. She does the same to her other arm, and when she takes her dress off her shoulders, is when I get a perfect view of them. Her skin is pale. It is not snow white, but she is not tanned like the other women around here. It looks like a soft, pink silk or like a cream Jenna makes after Sunday's lunch - when you see it a bowl, so perfectly served, you would rather sink your finger in it and lick the cream of it than eat it with a spoon.

Then, her dress starts falling more down her body, and when it stops, above her behind, I gasp. I move away from the bush, into the clearing, without thinking, so I can get a better look. Her waist is so small, but so perfectly shaped. She looks like she has been carved by God in intention to amaze everyone who have a pleasure to find themselves in her presence. Her back is what catches my attention, and a perfect, straight line in the middle of it, in between the bones of her back. It looks almost like a hollow, and I get a strange urge to follow it with the tip of my finger.

As I look at her, from safe distance, I feel something hard in my throat, so I swallow. All I want to do is go over there, place my lips on her neck, her shoulders, and examine her back with my fingers.

She puts her fingers inside of her dress and pushes it down her legs, and when I realize she's completely naked under it, I gasp.

I've never seen a naked woman, except in some art father had years ago. And whoever painted those pictures, npw I believe they have never seen a naked woman in front of their eyes either, or they were a lousy painter, because they were unable to capture the perfection I see in front of myself.

Damon told me stories, how women are different shapes and sizes, and how every one of them likes to be kissed differently, and tastes differently, and not all of them like to be touched in the same places, but when you figure out what they like, all of them shiver under the same intensity. He said some women have larger curves, while some have none. He said some are ashamed of pleasure, while some revel in it.

But everything he told me doesn't even come close to what Elena looks like.

Her hips, and her behind, are perfectly rounded, and there's a gap between her thighs. Her skin is milky. I wonder what she tastes like, what she feels like. By now, imagination was enough. Thinking she feels like silk or tastes like strawberry cake was enough, but now, when I'm few steps of being able to prove it to myself, I want more than imagination.

I want her.

And as I watch her, I'm more and more convinced she has no flaws where her body is concerned. She was made out of the finest material by most skilled hands, without any other intention than to prove to the mankind that perfection still does exist.

She is the woman painters should paint, but only the ones who are talented enough, so her beauty does not go to waste because the hands of someone cannot prove what eye can see. Writers should write about her, and everything she is from the inside, so those who cannot appreciate the beauty of view, can understand the beauty of words. Musicians should make music about her and her wind like movements, so those who are blind and illiterate can enjoy the language the whole world speaks - music.

She tilts her head a little, to the side, and looks over her shoulder, before she says, "Don't you know it's impolite to stare, Mr. Salvatore?" and blush washes over my cheeks.

As fast as she looked over her shoulder, she looks back, straight ahead, and steps out of her dress, which is now on the ground.

I want to answer her, say something, anything, but all the words I think of die in my throat before they touch my lips.

She walks towards the quarry, and when she reaches the water, she stops in front of it, only putting her toe in. When she pulls it back, I can imagine her smile, because she starts walking into the water, until her whole body is covered with it, and her hair is flowing on the surface of it, behind her.

She turns around, and through the clarity of the water, I can see her breasts.

"Have you enjoyed the show?" she asks with a serious face expression.

The only thing I can feel is heat. The air is not humid anymore, it's refreshing, and a moment ago, I could have felt the coldness of wind on my cheeks, but now, the only thing I can feel is heat. My body is sweating. Even the place under my tongue is full of sweat.

I want to reply to her. I want to find the right words, to say something witty, something worthy of the view of her body, but my brain is all fuzzy, and it seems all of the words have escaped me.

"I..," I say, stumbling like a child, unable to finish the sentence, partly because I have no idea what I want to say, partly because my throat is tightening in my neck.

A smirk creeps on her face. "I'm not mad, Stefan," and as she calls me by my first name, my heart jumps a little, and the flame inside of my eyes fires up. She notices my reaction to her words, so before she continues talking, a smirk on her face becomes wider, "I'm only wondering how much time will it take before you join me," and as my eyes lock on hers, my expression becomes dead serious under the intensity of her smiling face.

She wants me to join her? In the water?

"Take off your clothes," she bites her lip as she orders me.

Naked?

My heart is beating rapidly, and everything in front of my eyes, except her shape, is foggy.

"I promise I won't look," she giggles as she turns around and covers her eyes with her hands.

**ELENA'S POV**

My hands are covering my eyes, my breathing is fast, and now when I'm not facing him, my smile is shivering. I have a feeling my heart is going to pop out of my chest and drown in the quarry.

I'm scared. And all of a sudden, I'm cold. My whole body is freezing, from the tip of my toes to my neck, where the water is ending. I want this. I invited him. Since I reached the clearing, I knew he was following me. I heard him behind me, even though he was trying his best to remain silent. I want him, but in the same time I'm scared of wanting him. Or having him. Or being his.

And there is nothing worse than wanting something, but being too scared to reach it. Or maybe, reaching for it and then feeling like it will crash in you and knock you down, is worse.

I can hear him entering the water. I tell myself to calm down and to keep myself in check. I regain my posture, move the hands off my face, drop a smile, that is between fake and honest one, on my face, and turn around to face him.

He's close behind me, so close. I look down his face, at his chest, and through the water, I can see it clearly. Which makes me wonder, can he see mine as well as I can see his? I blush out of embarrassment but before he has a chance to notice, or comment on it, I say, "You're nearly as pale as I am," I smile at him, because I can see nervousness on his face.

"The difference is, it looks good on you," he compliments me.

I've always hated my fair skin tone, and I've always envied the girls who have tanned skin. I never thought about it as one of my virtues, nor has anyone ever complimented me on it. I never expected them too.

But Stefan did. And the way he's looking at me now.. I wonder how would other men react in this situation. What would they do if I was standing naked before them? I always thought men would try to sneak a peek. But not Stefan. He's looking straight at my face. My eyes, my lips, sometimes my neck and my shoulders, even my hair which is floating on the water all around me, but his look is not traveling any lower.

I know he's interested in me, because if he wasn't, he would not be here. But Stefan is different from the rest of them.

"I've always loved your hair," I say as I glance at his messy hair, which is messier than usual. He probably did not have any time to comb is after he woke up, plus, light wind is blowing.

He looks at me and I notice there's a slight amount of blush on his cheeks. "I always thought it makes me look like a boy," he confesses.

I chuckle. "You are a boy," I say through a light laughter as he shots me a serious look. "There's nothing wrong with boys," I wave my hand at him, making tiny circles in the water, "I like boys," I giggle.

A smile appears on my face, and he smiles back, but I can see he's still uncomfortable.

And I don't want him to be. I'm not either, not anymore. I'm not scared or cold. My body feels quite warm, and even though my heart is still beating rapidly, it's not from fear, it's from excitement.

As I move closer to him, I can see his shoulders become stiff. We're so close to each other, so close I can feel his legs touching mine in the water.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask, trying to catch his look that is wandering all over my face.

"You," he replies fast, honestly.

"Oh," I gasp surprised, even though I'm not, "What about me?" I grin at him, and I can see his stiff shoulders relaxing.

"How soft your hair is," he touches the ends of my hair, in the water, with his fingers, "And how enchanting your eyes are, so full of beauty and wonder, like you've seen the whole world and want to see all the other ones," he locks his eyes on mine and then smiles as his look falls on my nose, "And your nose is so small and perky," he laughs lightly, and I can feel my cheeks burning with blush. "And your lips," he says as his looks falls on them.

He moves his fingers from my hair to my face, and with his thumb, scrapes my lips, "So soft," he gasps silently, "Red, like a rose," he makes an observation, as he removes his thumb from my lips.

His look moves back, and as it locks on mine, he starts lowering his head, pushing his lips towards mine. I move my look from his eyes to his lowering lips, and my lips shiver as I wait for his to land on them.

They're so close to mine, I can feel his breath on my face. Our noses touch, and there's only a small gap, thinner than a finger, between our lips. He stops lowering his head for a moment, and looks at me, making me look at him. And as I move my eyes to lock them on his, his lips fall on mine.

This is it. It's happening. My first kiss.

I never imagined it would happen like this.

But I guess things never happen like you imagine they would. Things never happen like you plan them. Sometimes they turn out worse, sometimes better, but they're never exactly the same as you see them in your head.

Sometimes life disappoints you, and sometimes it surprises you.

He keeps his lips pressed on mine, and as he does so, I can feel my insides warming up, I can feel something inside of me, some kind of energy circling inside of my body. I do not know what to do with my hands, and I can guess neither does he, because his keep awkwardly hanging on the sides of his body, floating in the water.

And when air disappears from both of our lungs, he detaches his lips from mine to inhale.

This is nothing like I imagined my first kiss is going to be. It is more. And it is less at the same time.

I thought I will be fearless and give myself to someone without giving it a second thought. But instead, I shivered, and fear was evident in my eyes, and until he kissed me, I thought I was going to drown.

But when he did.. I could have never imagined how it feels to have someone's lips pressed on mine. How wet and soft and subtle someone's lips could be. How awkward and wonderful, new and unknown, but at the same time so natural, it will be. I could have never imagined the warmth I felt or a tingling sensation in the back of my throat.

I blush when I feel his eyes on mine. I raise my look up and smile at him, and then..

Then he puts his hands on my hips and pulls me closer to him, his lips falling on mine once again, but this time more rapidly, aggressively, passionately. I can feel his tongue trying to part my lips. And I let it.

And as we kiss, all I can feel is his touch on my body, my body burning in such intensity that, for a moment, I think the water is boiling. My breasts are pressing next to his chest, which is when I remove my hands from his chest, and throw my arms around his neck.

**STEFAN'S POV**

Her lips taste nothing like strawberry cake. Strawberry cake is nothing compared to her lips. Her lips taste like happiness. And sunshine. And memories. Her lips taste like past, present and future. They're soft, but not like anything I could have ever imagined. They're special kind of soft, soft that cannot be compared to anything. They're swallowing me, my insides, my body and my soul, and I'm ready to give her everything she asks for.

My hands are wandering up and down her body, from her lips, to her back. I'm following the line of her back with my fingers. Her breasts are pressing next to my chest, and they're hard. She threw her arms around me neck and she's pulling her fingers through my hair on the back of my head.

I do not want to stop kissing her, but I can feel air escaping my lungs.

I cup her face and kiss her one last time before detaching my lips from hers.

She buries her face in my shoulder, as I, controlled by the intensity of this moment, plant a kiss on her neck.

She gasps.

Not, it's not a gasp. It's a moan.

Beautiful, silent, melodic moan.

I plant another kiss. Then another one. Then another one. And by the time I reach her shoulders, I lose count of how many times I've kissed her skin.

"You're so beautiful," I say in between kisses.

I can feel her lips forming into a smile as she keeps them pressed onto my skin, even before she laughs lightly.

"I think we need to head back," she says.

I know we have to. "I know," I reply, holding her close to me.

But I don't want to let her go.

"Stefan," she says my name through a giggle, and my name has never sounded more beautiful than it does now, "You need to let go of me, otherwise we won't be able to leave," she says, detaching her face from my body.

"I do not want us to leave," I whine a little, "I like it here," I look around us, "No one can see us, touch us, interrupt us," I smile at her, "We're all alone," I whisper into her ear.

I can feel her chest raise and fall next to mine.

"We need to get dressed," she says, playing with my hair at the back of my neck.

"Maybe I don't want you to get dressed," she shots me a serious look as those words come out of my mouth, and I fear she got the wrong idea, so I try to explain myself, "It's just," I pull my fingers up and down her arm as I hold her close, "Feeling your skin next to mine, it's the best feeling I've ever felt," I confess.

"I know," she leans her forehead against mine, "But I'm cold," she says, and I know she is, because I can feel the water getting cold around me too, "And we can have more moments like this, later," she smiles at me.

I look at her and a smile creeps on my face. "Promise?" I ask.

"I promise," she kisses my lips one more time before pushing herself away from me. "Now let's get dressed," and I watch her as she starts coming out of the water. Before she reveals her body to me completely, she turns around and smiles at me, "I'll race you towards the house," and she hurries to the surface.

* * *

**AN: I know a lot of you wanted to see their first kiss, so finally, here it is. I hope it did not disappoint. Tell me what you think in the reviews :)**

**And oh, for the person who said Elena never looks at Stefan's lips in the show, that is completely untrue. I can remember at least 10 scene when she does look at his lips. The key thing is how she's looking at him, not where ;)**


	9. Chapter 9

**STEFAN'S POV**

I've read so much about love. Love that turns into obsession, innocent kind of love, kind of love that never lasts and kind of love that lasts forever, love that burns until it turns into ashes and love that burns until it glows. Love that consumes all of your senses and lifts you up, and love that is your rock, keeping you chained to the ground. I've read about passion, and a lot of times I've pondered can passion survive without love, and can you love without passion? I've read a lot about lust, and how it can blur your eyesight, and make your mind spin, because you want something so badly it makes you numb to everything except pleasure and primal animal need to have what you want.

Can you love someone you only recently met? Can love make you brave and more than a man you were before it came into your life? Can love turn a man from a lamb to a lion?

Do I love Elena Gilbert?

I've tried to find an answer to that question in the books, but all I've got is disappointment, because none of those books contain a description of love similar to the feeling I've felt while me and Elena were kissing in the quarry.

Several days passed since that moment, but I have a feeling like few moments ago I came out of the water, dressed myself, shook my hair and ran towards the house. Elena was well ahead of me, and I have to give her credit, she's pretty fast, especially for a lady. When we arrived to the house, we said our goodbyes and went to our bedrooms to dry off.

But before we parted, I pulled her close to me, and kissed her. It took her by surprise, and I think I took her breath away too. Because I could have felt it traveling down my throat as she kissed me back.

Later, she asked me what was I thinking, kissing her in the middle of the hallway, while everyone are still in the house. Someone could have walked in on us. "I didn't think," I replied to her, and she looked at me seriously, somewhat stunned, before she forced a smile on her face.

Which is how my train of thoughts about love started, because, until now, that is the only link between what I'm feeling, and the book definition of love. When you love someone, you don't think, you just act.

Everything you believe in disappears. Everything you knew up to that moment suddenly doesn't matter anymore. You do not have a choice anymore, because love takes your choice away - there's only one option, one priority, and most of the times, it has nothing to do with common sense. It's like you become a different person, but you don't, not really. Love simply awakens a part of you that has been sleeping inside of you this whole time. Maybe it's not that much about foolish actions, maybe it's more about you, and how you realize life is too short to be so cautious all the time.

They say, when you find yourself in the presence of an angel, when you look an angel in the eyes, your eyes burn. There's a hole in your eye socket where your eyes used to be, once your look locks with the angels. Some say it happens so no one can describe how angels look like, because no one is really supposed to know.

And then, the others say it's because you see true beauty. Something pure, something innocent, something out of this world, something your mortal mind can't really comprehend, so it burns your eyes, the only real connection between your brain and your surroundings.

Maybe if we're not capable of seeing true beauty, we're not capable of seeing at all. And until we see true beauty, we're not capable of understanding.

It's similar with love. You burn. You have a feeling every fiber of your being is on fire. That every cell of your body is multiplying. Your heart is pounding wildly, and you're always shaking. You often get goosebumps out of nowhere. And then there are periods of calmness and peace, even though those never last long. But they last long enough to remind you of how it is not to be completely and utterly scared every second of every day.

And then you have two choices. Cut the cord connecting you to love and staying in the place of tranquility, or going back to experiencing every single effect love has on you.

You want to cut the cord. If someone asked you, only few days before, maybe even hours, or minutes, you would say yes, cut the cord. But now, you do the complete opposite. You go back to being scared, but brave, sad, but happy, crying while smiling, shaking from coldness in the middle of summer and sweating from heat in the middle of the winter.

Because you feel like you're a completely different person now. You're more courageous than you had thought, and you know you have to take a risk, because that's all love really is. That's all life is.

It's a big game in which, even when you lose, you win.

You feel smarter, but your actions are more stupid than ever.

So my only salvation is the thought everyone experience love differently. Every love is different, and every person views it differently.

I do not feel like following Elena to hell, or writing thousand of sonnets about her lips, or killing for her happiness. I do not feel like expressing my love in ways characters in my books do, which makes me hard to believe I actually love her, because once upon a time, the way my books described love seemed heavenly to me.

Now I can't believe I'm doubting it because I believe my own judgment better.

I do not feel any of those things, but whenever I'm in her presence, I feel like.. smiling.

It's that simple.

But yet, that complicated.

Smile is a greatest weapon, because it's a sword that can plunge even through the heart made out of stone.

I remember how I felt in the quarry.

Like it's a dream. One second good, the other bad. Like I'm going to wake up every second now.

I remember thinking what a bad idea this is, but it was like someone else's hands stripped me naked and pushed me into the quarry.

I was nervous, and scared, then nervous again and scared some more. And then she turned around and everything, but us, disappeared.

She looked like love and smelled like love and smiled like happiness.

Her smile was warm, like sunshine, and the look in her eyes was radiating with confidence.

But at times, I could see her shake. And when those walls of happiness and confidence fell down, even for a second, I could have seen fear behind her eyes.

But the thing is, even when Elena Gilbert gets scared, she doesn't want to show it, or confess it. But she doesn't hide it either, she fights it.

It was cold in the water, but her skin was hot.

I think it takes you a second to fall in love. Maybe a fragment of that second. Maybe you fall in love even before you meet the person, maybe you were born to love them, maybe it was always destined to be, you just had to wait for that love to be awaken.

I guess that's why they never teach you about love. Why no one ever tries to explain it to you, or why there are no tutors in love. And I guess that's why there's no textbook explanation of love, only descriptions of feelings that vary from author to author.

Because you can't explain love, not really. You can't pin point the moment you fell in love, because once you do, you have a feeling like you've been in love all along. You can't explain the feeling, because there are no words, or maybe there are too many words so you can't choose which ones to use.

Everyone experience love differently. For some, it's as peaceful as falling into sleep, and for some, it's wild and uncontrollable, like finding yourself in the middle of the sea during the storm.

So yes, I think the answer is yes.

I know the answer is yes.

I'm one hundred percent desperately in love with Elena Gilbert..

..and there's no turning back.

**DAMON'S POV**

I stand in the middle of the hallway, my eyes locked on the kitchen door. The last maid left the kitchen and went to her room few minutes ago, but I know Bonnie is still in there. I've been monitoring the kitchen door since she went in, and I'm fairly certain she did not leave yet.

I want to go in there. I want to talk to her, to confront her, to ask her not to avoid me. I'd beg her if I have to.

But for the first time after a very long time, I do not just barge in there, unprepared, without any intentions. No, I stand in front of the door, as if I'm lost, as if I'm a child, thinking of how I'm planning to pull this of.

This is so unfair. If I like a girl, I should be able to tell her. I should be able to tell everyone. I should be able to take her by the hand and dance with her in the middle of the ballroom.

They always complain how I never do anything like I'm supposed to, and now when I want to do something regarding their expectations, they would frown upon it. Because she's not what they want her to be, or who they want her to be.

To hell with them. She's better than all of them combined.

She's more than any of them could ever imagine. They would never understand.

I play nervously with the fingers of my hand with my other hand as my look is still locked on the kitchen door.

What am I doing, standing here, like a helpless animal?

I'm Damon, I always do the inappropriate thing, I always rash into things like I'm incapable of thinking things through. I should not be standing here, I should be doing what I always do. I should be doing some stupid and wrong thing I'm going to get away with somehow.

I exhale loudly as I make few steps forward and open the kitchen door.

**BONNIE'S POV**

I can hear the kitchen door open, as well as I can feel the wind on my back.

I think one of the maids forgot something and came back in, so I turn around to check who it is. But instead of one of the maids, I find Damon leaning against one of the cupboards.

Air escapes my lungs. I've been so careful and successful in avoiding him, and somehow, he has found me. He has a smirk on his face, like he always does. He's smirking with his lips and his eyes and every line on his face. His arms are crossed over his chest, and his look is locked on me. And when I look at him closely, I can see a small amount of fear in his eyes. His hands are shaking while pressing next to his chest. Maybe I'm imagining because it really is a silly thought. Damon Salvatore being scared of anything, let alone me.

"You shouldn't be here, Mr. Salvatore," I say casually, trying to keep my voice from trembling.

People like Damon have a way of getting under your skin, and Damon has gotten under mine.

And I want him out.

He pushes himself away from the cupboard and makes few steps forward, smirk on his face getting wider. "You can call me Damon, you know," he says smugly.

Damon, his name is sharp on my mind, every syllable of his name cutting into my brain, providing me with pain, which in some weird way, leads to pleasure.

"Mr. Salvatore," I say his name once again, letting him know I have no intention of calling him by his first name.

He sighs loudly and frowns. "Mr. Salvatore sounds so official," he throws his hands in the air, "Sounds like my father's name, not mine," and I swear, there's a hint of frustration in his voice. He looks away from me as he says, "I'm not my father," his voice is muffled, "I don't want to be like him," he cries out silently.

I watch him as he keeps his head lowered down, his messy hair is protruding on the top of his head, and in this moment, I really want to see his eyes.

"How did you grow up to be so different from everyone?" I ask, surprising myself with the words that come out of my mouth.

Slowly, he raises his head, and locks his eyes on mine. "Because I've been bitter for a long time," he spits those words out.

There's silence in the room. For minutes. He doesn't say anything. I don't either, what's there to say?

Just, few minutes of awkward silence, minutes that seem like an eternity.

"You're inappropriate," I say as I glare at him.

He glares back at me as a smirk creeps back on his face. "So I've been told."

There's no more air in the room.

**ELENA'S POV**

I'm scared. I'm frightened and I'm shaking, like I'm coming down with a cold. I don't think I've ever before in my life experienced this amount of fear.

But I'm also happy. I don't remember the last time I was this happy, if I ever was.

I have no idea what came over me that morning by the quarry. What made me say such words or propose such things.

I guess it was Bonnie. She finally explained her behavior to me, and told me Damon Salvatore is a cause of it. I have to say, I was fairly surprised. At first, I thought he's only using her as a part of his scheme, so he could push his father's buttons, but the more she talked..

..well, she introduced me to a side of Damon I never knew existed. I know Damon only by his surface, and from what Stefan told me and from how others view him, but Bonnie seems to understand him. She talked about him with a certain kind of happiness and excitement in her voice, but when I asked her does she feel anything for him, she strongly denied it. She also asked me for advice how to handle Damon, since she can't keep avoiding him, so I told her to follow her heart. I know it's not the best advice to give to someone, and it's probably not what Bonnie wanted to hear, but it's something I strongly believe in.

So I listened to my own advice and followed my heart, and it led me directly to Stefan.

It took no shortcuts, nor it was impatient, it took me to my goal when it was ready.

I've never felt more safe than when I was in Stefan's arms. I never felt like I belonged somewhere more than when he was wrapping his arms around me, kissing me, whispering in my skin how beautiful I am.

Since then, every time I see him I feel like wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him on the lips. But I know I can't, I'm not allowed to, out of many reasons.

That doesn't mean I was not able to steal few kisses from him while no one was looking, or that he hasn't done the same.

He took me for a walk before lunch, and when we were far enough and sure no one can see us, he had pulled me close to him and planted a kiss on my lips. Then another one, and another one, and so on until he could have felt my lips curving into a smile against his.

When I'm not in his presence, I want to enjoy his company. When he's not looking at me, I want his eyes locked on me. When he's not kissing me, I want to taste him. When he's not touching me, I can feel my skin craving to come in contact with his, and all of the places of my body where he usually touches me start to burn.

Is this how love feels like? Do I love Stefan?

I wish I knew. If I knew anything about love, maybe then I could tell.

* * *

**AN: I know Elena's personality and actions do not exactly resemble the behavior of women of that age, but that kinda was the point. The point was for her to be different. Which is why, for example, love Elizabeth Bennet so much, because she was a woman ahead of her time. In my opinion, that is what makes a character interesting - them being different from everyone else :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**STEFAN'S POV**

"Stefan Antonio Salvatore!" Caroline shrieks my full name. Her voice starts echoing in the woods, and I would not be surprised if they had heard it in my house, or hers for that matter. Caroline always was a loud one, which is usually frowned upon. When she was a child, ladies would furrow their brows upon hearing her voice, but with time, she has learned how to control it. Except in situations like these. But then again, with me, she never felt a need to hide her true self. "You did what?" she tries to stay serious, but the last word comes out of her mouth through laughter. She picks up a bagel from the basket and throws it at me.

The bagel falls into my lap, and a light smile creeps on my face, unintentionally. "You heard me," I say as I throw a bagel back into the basket.

I can tell Caroline everything, even the most awkward things, things that make me blush when they cross my mind. There's not a person in the world I trust more than I trust her. Not Damon, not my father, not Jenna, not Katherine, not Elena, but Caroline. She's one and only person in the world I can look into the eyes and tell my darkest thoughts and biggest secrets, knowing she won't judge me, and that, even though her reaction might be insane, her advice will always be worthy.

She frowns at me, and a lock of shiny, blonde hair falls over her face. She tries to blow it away, unsuccessfully. "But," she exhales loudly, "That is so," she rolls her eyes, searching for the right word, "So unlike you," she throws her hands in the air.

I chuckle as I watch confusion wash all over her face. "I know," I bit my lower lip.

"So why did you do it then?" she asks loudly, still confused by my actions.

I exhale tiredly and look away from her, towards the quarry. I crumple the blanket beneath me with my fingers. "Have you ever wanted to do something, but at the same time you really did not want to do it because you know it's bad for you?" I ask, furrowing my brows.

Caroline frowns, but after a moment or two, she nods. "One time, I was trying to lose weight to fit into my new dress, but Helga made her famous apple pie, and despite my best efforts to stay away from it, at the end of the day, I gave in," she explains proudly, thinking how her situations fits perfectly to the point of my story.

She's not that far away, truth to be told.

My lips curve into a smile and I nod. "The whole thing felt so unreal, like it was a dream. It was like I was having an out of body experience, like I was watching myself doing all of those things, but my mind was not connected to my body so the only thing I could do was to observe," I raise my head to look at her, and catch her staring at me excitedly, expecting more, "Every step of the way I was thinking what a bad idea this is, but I could not stop myself from moving. I wanted her as much as I did not want her. Or maybe I just did not want to want her," I furrow my brows out of my own confusion.

"But in the end, you took a bite out of the apple pie," Caroline says, giggling.

I laugh alongside her, and slowly, and quietly, say "Yeah," while nodding my head.

"So," and she prolongs this little word to such extent I have a feeling she's saying it forever, and I know she's going to ask something even she is shy to ask, "Was it how you imagined it would be?" she finally asks.

A satisfactory smile appears on my face, and by this point I believe she already knows the answer, but I reply to her anyway, "Better."

She smiles at me, and I can feel her eyes locked on me as I turn my head and look towards the quarry.

And all the memories of that morning rush down on me. They are pleasurable like the moment happened years ago, so the memory of it is so delicious, like I can't remember exactly how it felt. How soft her skin was, how enjoyable her lips were, the look in her eyes, the heat of her touch.

And on the other hand, the moment seemed so real, so close, like it happened a minute ago. I look down at my hand, and I can see her fingers wrapping around mine.

**CAROLINE'S POV**

I can not believe Stefan Salvatore, my best friend, the person I know for as long as I know myself, person invading my earliest childhood memories, has done such a thing. Such dirty, shameful and sinful thing. If it were anyone else, I would frown at their actions, but since it's Stefan, all I can think of is good for him. He was living inside of his shell long enough, his actions molded by other people wishes, and then Elena came along, and somehow, he became his own person. To people who do not know Stefan as well as I do, this might sound strange, but not only his attitude changed. The way he holds himself also changed, like he has something to be proud of. The smile on his face is brighter, and his eyes show the true essence of his soul now. They show he's years ahead of us, in every way possible. And he's truly happy, happier than I have seen him in a long while. Maybe ever happier than I've ever seen him. I only hope it lasts, forever preferably.

I really do hope Elena does not break his heart. I hope world does not break his heart either.

My train of thoughts ends as he calls my name, "Caroline!" and I shake myself like he woke me up from a trans. He laughs lightly at my reaction as he realizes I was deep in thought, and repeats his question one more time, "How are things going with Tyler?"

A wide smile appears on my face at mention of Tyler Lockwood. "Great!" I say happily, smile on my face getting so wide that for a moment I think the skin in the corners of my lips will crack, "Have I told you how the other day he came by to take me for a walk?" I ask cheerfully.

Stefan shakes his head. "No, you haven't," he furrows his brows, slightly offended I have been keeping a secret from him, we usually tell each other everything the day it happens. But then again, he was keeping a secret from me too, for a very long time, but I decide to drop such matters when he says, "I hope he was at his best behavior," he says cautiously.

I giggle, "And what do you consider a good behavior? Kissing a girl while both of you are naked? Or walking with her around her estate, your hand barely scraping against hers?" I decide to tease him, but his face becomes pale, and flushed, as he looks at me. He looks like he's going to pass out anytime soon, so I decide to put him out of his misery by giggling some more. "I'm joking, Stefan, he was a perfect gentleman," I roll my eyes.

He huffs. "Are you saying I'm not?" he furrows his brows as he looks at me. I know my words haven't offended him because this is typical Stefan. He has to analyze every one of his actions in his head, always trying to find something wrong, because he's incapable of thinking he could actually do something right.

"No one is asking you to be a gentleman at all times, Stefan," I put my hand on his shoulder, and I can feel how stiff his shoulders are, "You are gentleman when it's required from you, but what you do with the woman you love is no one's goddamn business," I squeeze his shoulder, but all he does is turn his head around in a hurry and shots me a confused look.

"You think I love Elena?" and he says her name with such care, it rolls down his tongue perfectly, it almost makes me jealous.

I smile at him. "I know you love Elena," I lower my head on his shoulder so my lips would be close to his ear, "I also know you irretrievably in love with her," I whisper into his ear like it's some sort of a secret.

His look becomes serious as he turns his head away from me and looks straight back the the quarry. I remove myself from him and sit next to him, leaving some space between us, and we sit in silence for a long time. But it's not an awkward kind of silence. It's a silence you share with the person you know, person you love, person you can understand by the way they breath, or by the look in their eyes, and sometimes, how they act in silence can tell you much more than words that come out of their mouth ever could.

"I still can not understand what you see in him," Stefan says without looking at me.

"Oh shush," I reply, "You remember him as a child who kept scaring you with legends and myths. You have to get to know him," I raise my tone of voice at the last sentence, because I would hate the fact my hopefully future husband and best friend can not stand to be in the same room with each other.

"So, he's not into werewolves and witches and vampires that much anymore?"

I laugh at Stefan's dry humor. Sometimes I think I'm the only person who understands how actually funny he is.

"Oh, he is, but the difference is, you're not scared of those things anymore."

**ELENA'S POV**

I've been feeling very strange lately. Whenever I'm not in Stefan's presence, I want to be. I constantly want to be in his company. When he's not around, I want him to be, and when he is, I do not want him to leave. He's invading my thoughts every second of every day, and sometimes, it's irritating. I can't think of anything but him, and when I try, my train of thoughts, somehow, always leads me back to him. The other day, I was writing literature homework tutor assigned to us, and I started doodling his name on the half empty page of my written assignment. When Bonnie and me are talking in the privacy of my room, I tend to say, _"Oh, you have to hear what Stefan said the other day"_, even when his words have nothing to do with the topic of our discussion. I have no idea how she puts up with me anymore. But when I hear his voice inside of my head, it makes me so happy, and I want to share that happiness with someone, and Bonnie is the only person with whom I can share it with. Sometimes when I'm alone, I remember his words, and I giggle like a fool. And oh, whenever I'm taking a bath, memories of that morning in the quarry come rushing down on me, I can feel his hands on me under the water. And in that moment, I want him there with me, so much. And I know it's wrong. They have been teaching us wanting someone that way is wrong, but I can't help myself, when every part of my body craves for him. When he comes into the room, a foolish smile appears on my face, and I say his name with such joy, like I haven't seen him in years. Sometimes I forget to control myself in public, so I put my arm under his, and in that moment, I forget people don't know he's mine. People think he's to marry someone else.

I try to help Bonnie with her Damon problems, and since I'm the only person who knows about it, I feel like it's my duty. Keeping all these secrets is so exciting. Living a life no one knows nothing about. But how can I help her, when I can't even help myself? How can I concentrate on her problems, when my problems never leave me?

Bonnie says I'm in love. That is preposterous. Firstly, there is no such thing as falling in love. You can fall in a hole in the ground, you can fall in bed, of a chair, from a bridge or a cliff, out of window, but you can't fall in love. Secondly, even if there were such a thing, it would not feel like this. Love is supposed to be pleasurable, not this confusing or hard.

"Hey, beautiful," Stefan nudges me as we walk next to each other, down the lane, towards the forest. His hand is scraping against mine, but we're still not far away enough for him to intertwine his fingers with mine. "What are you thinking about?" he asks, detaching me from my train of thoughts.

"Why do you always call me like that? Beautiful?" I ask curiously. It's not that I do not like it, I do, it compliments me very much. And it's not like I find myself ugly, but I do not find myself beautiful either. I'm average looking.

Confusion washes over his face. "You don't like it?" he asks.

"I do," I nod my head, "But I do not find myself pretty enough to be called beautiful," I confess.

He surprises me and laughs out loud. "Oh, I assure you, you are," he locks his eyes on mine, "But when I call you beautiful, I'm not only regarding your looks. If I wanted to compliment your looks only, I would call you alluring, beauteous, classy, divine, elegant, charming," he keeps associating all these attributes with me, and I can feel my cheeks blushing, almost burning, "Exquisite, graceful, magnificent, radiant, stunning," he smiles in my direction, looks over his shoulder, and before he takes his look back to me, he takes my hand into his, "Angelic," he says as his eyes lock back on mine, and I'm pretty sure there's a large amount of fiery red blush on my pale skin.

I lower my look down, but he puts his thumb under my chin and forces it back up. "When I say beautiful, I'm regarding everything you are, not only your looks. How warm you are. How intelligent, and opinionated, and free. How young, chipper, vivacious and funny you are. You're opened to new possibilities and you always tend to see the best in people. You're strong and full of life, and there's a fire inside of you that burns so bright," his thumb scrapes against my cheek, and his skin against mine sends shivers down my body, "You're beautiful in every sense of the word, Elena Gilbert," he smiles at me.

My whole body is burning, and somehow, I manage to find enough strength to smile back at him. "You have an old soul," I say as we continue walking.

"Oh?" he asks, confused.

I look up at him. "When I'm with you, I have a feeling like I'm traveling back in time. Like I'm seeing places that no longer exist, and meeting people who no longer live, and feeling things people forgot how to feel, or haven't learned yet. I can hear the world disappearing in a whisper, and the two of us are the only ones left standing. When I look into your eyes, I have a feeling you have lived thousand of lives before this one, and like you're going to live thousand more. I want to go with you, but part of me is afraid you won't be able to take me. When I look into your eyes, I can see thousand of different people who's lives you lived, still inside of you," I raise our joined hands and lift them, pressing them to the place on his body where his heart is beating. "You have such a big heart, Stefan," and my eyes smile at his.

He licks his lips and looks over his shoulder, once again, before turning his head back to me, putting both of his hands on my waist, rolling me around and pinning me against a tree at the entrance of the woods. He looks in the direction of his house to make sure no one can see us from this position, and then, he looks into my eyes with such a gentle look, before his lips fall on mine.

He's kissing me like he has never kissed me before, and like he's never going to kiss me again. His lips are salty and sweet at the same time, and he's feeding of them like he's trying to suck all of the life force out of me. And I'm devouring his lips like I'm trying to eat him alive.

I thought, no, I believed, there's no such thing as falling in love, because you really can't feel falling in love. It's a process with ups and downs, and when those ups make you think this is it, those downs pull you back to the ground, reminding you that no, this is not it. You can't really feel falling in love because one moment you're not in love, and the next you are, and you can spend a month or a year falling in love, but once you do realize you're in love, all that time will seem like a second.

I think, no, I know, that I'm in love with Stefan Salvatore.

Dammit.

**STEFAN'S POV**

"Do you think people live differently on the other side of the world?" she asks as I'm kissing the corners of her lips. Her hands are resting on my chest, and it's such a pleasant feeling, feeling her touch on that certain part of my body.

I pull myself back. "I think our first neighbor lives differently than us, so yes, I think people in different parts of the world live way differently than we do," her hands keep going up and down my chest, slowly, crumbling my shirt.

She smiles lightly at me. "Aren't you interested how?" she asks. So many questions I have no answers to in such an unfortunate time, when the only thing I can think about are her lips.

"Sometimes," I confess truthfully, because sometimes, those thoughts cross my mind. How my life would be if I were born somewhere else, as someone else.

"Sometimes I think people in Europe are way more advanced than we are. Sometimes I think, if I were in Paris, I would be able to dance, and teach others how to dance," she starts playing with the buttons of my shirt, and I try to listen to her words, but her red, warm, wet, subtle lips are making it hard for me to concentrate.

"You know, someone once told me you can be whatever you want to be," I give her a meaningful look.

She giggles loudly. "And who would ever say such a foolish thing," she laughs as she remembers her own words.

I smile and kiss the tip of her nose.

"I think you should try to be a writer, and I should try to be a dancer," she says while lowering her hands and intertwining our fingers.

"Sure," my look falls back on her lips.

"I'm serious, Mr. Salvatore," she growls my name, and I know she can read my thoughts, because now, she only calls me by my last name when she wants to make a point.

I lock my look with hers. "I promise I will try if you promise to do the same."

"I promise," she says through a whisper.

I smile at her. "Can I kiss you now?" I ask expectantly.

"Oh my," she laughs, "Why would you ever think you need a permission to do such a thing?"

But before she even manages to finish her sentence, my lips fall on hers, and I start kissing her so passionately, like I'm trying to suck venom out of her mouth. She moans into my mouth, and her moan keeps echoing inside of my body.

* * *

**AN: I'm sorry it took my such a long time to update, but I'm really busy with uni work, so I barely have time to sleep. I woke up earlier today so I can write this.**

**So, Elena finally realized her feelings? But will she accept them, or will she keep fighting them?**


	11. Chapter 11

**ELENA'S POV**

We're sitting on the stairs on the porch and writing our math homework that is due for tomorrow. I watch Stefan's forehead frown as he gets stuck in the middle of the task, while I, on the other hand, have no idea what I'm doing. Math has never been my strongest suit. Anything connected with tutor work has never been my strong suit, except maybe music and art. But Stefan is good at everything, there are simply some things he's better at than the others.

My mind is fuzzy again. It's chaotic inside of my head. Since the moment I've realized I'm in love with Stefan I've been quietly panicking inside of my head, leading an internal debate with myself, even trying to make myself fall out of love with him, like there's a button I can push and be done with him.

I do not want to be in love with him. It scares me, how he makes me feel. What he makes me feel, and what I feel for him. It's new and unexplored, and most importantly, it's something I, for a long time, believed doesn't exist. He makes me feel like I can do everything. No, he makes me feel like I should try to do everything. And I always wanted to do everything life can offer me in this lifetime, but in the same time, I was afraid of trying, because I'm afraid of failing. He makes me feel like, if I stretch out my hand far enough, I can reach for the stars. Like I can touch the sky and shape the moon. He makes me feel safe and appreciated and special.

Which is exactly why, as much as I do not want to be in love with him, I want to be in love with him. Because these feelings are overwhelming, and it's wonderful. It's intoxicating. He makes me feel things I never knew exist, and those feelings overflow all of my senses. I feel like I'm growing into a completely different person, because all these experiences are transforming me into someone else.

I look down at him again, and he does not look so confused anymore, he probably overcame the problem he was dealing with.

"You never talk about your mother," I say, pressing my feather against my lips.

I expect him to raise his head and look at me, but he doesn't. He calmly, while still writing, says, "You never talk about your parents either."

My parents were a sore spot for me for a very long time. Their death was my biggest loss followed by the loss of my brother, about whom I've heard nothing about since I came here. I did not want to talk about my family because it had hurt too much. Thinking about them had hurt too much. And when the pain finally lessened, we had other problems, other feelings, and other things to discuss.

"Would you like for us to talk about them?" I ask, trying not to sound too forceful. It is not that Stefan and me do not talk. We do, among other things, but we rarely talk about how our lives were before we met. I almost never talk about my life in the city, and Stefan sometimes mentions Damon, or Caroline. Sometimes we talk about the future, but it's very depressing, because our future is very unclear, or impossible.

He exhales loudly and puts his feather down on the paper which he places on the step next to him, and raises his head to me, "Okay," he says calmly, relaxed, "You go first."

And suddenly, I have no idea what to say, or what to talk about. "I asked you first," I say playfully, trying to hide my panic.

A light smile appears on his face, "I have far less memories to share than you," and the pain behind his eyes shoots me in the heart. It is almost unbearable, I can feel my heart squeezing inside of my chest.

"My father was rarely around," I begin, avoiding his stare, "He was working a lot. When I was a child, I barely knew I had a father, and by the time I was old enough to understand why he's coming home few minutes before my bedtime, it was too late for us to build a good relationship," I say somewhat sadly, when the realization that I never really knew my father hits me. I try to hold back tears, because this was my idea. "I was very close to my mother. She had taught me everything I know. I think she taught me more things than mothers usually teach their daughters. She explained certain things to me, things you find about, things you explore later in your life, after you get married," a smile appears on my face as I remember myself blush as my mother tried to explain all the grown up things to me, "She always supported me, never made me do things I did not want to do. She was my best friend too, I could tell her everything, and she would always understand me," I look up at him, and there's a smile on his face.

"Sounds like a great mother," he says while smiling at me.

I have no other choice but to smile too. "I often miss her, especially when I have a problem I have to share with someone. I can always confide in Bonnie, but my mother was.. different. I guess for most girls, mothers are different, and telling them things feels different than telling them to your companions. And it saddens me when I think about all the things she's going to miss. My wedding day, meeting my children," and I blush as those words come out of my mouth, hinting Stefan I'm thinking about those things.

But he does not react to my words, he simply keeps smiling.

"I was only four when my mother passed away," he says, with the same stabbing pain in his eyes, "And back then, I barely understood what's going on. I remember thinking everyone are crazy when they told me she went to sleep, and that she's never going to wake up, because no one can sleep for that long," a painful smile appears on his face as the memory flashes before his eyes, "I do not have many memories of her, only flashes which are fading more and more with time. I do remember her smile, as clear as day, and the way she combed her hair, and the way she danced, like she's floating in the air. She used to tell me bed time stories out of her head, and how she used to bring me tea when I was ill," and as he keeps on talking, I can feel my heart squeezing inside of my chest, like we're connected somehow and like I can feel the pain he's feeling as those rare memories invade his brain. "But most of all, I can very well remember all of the things she told me in the short time she spent with me," and all the pain in his eyes is replaced with a certain kind of light, "She always used to tell me how special I am. 'You're a special boy, Stefan,' she would say, 'You will never see yourself among others, and they will never accept you. You won't want them to accept you either, because being on your own is how you will like it. You're different than the rest of them, and because of that, they will be jealous of you. But one day, you will meet someone who fits you perfectly,' she would smile at the thought of it, 'Your soulmate. And when you do find her, your soul will take over your body, and it will eat you from the inside, until there's no doubt, or hate, or any other kind of negativity left,' and she would kiss the top of my head, leaving me confused, but I would never dwell too much over it, because she said, in the end, everything will be fine," and he looks at me with such an honest smile that I feel like I can see a four year old version of him inside of his eyes.

"Do you believe in love, Mr. Salvatore?" I call him by his last name because we're in front of the house and anyone could hear us.

He looks at me seriously, like I've offended him somehow. "Of course I believe in love."

I want to ask him has he ever been in love, but I know he hasn't, so I decide to skip that question. I exhale lightly, "How do you image falling in love?" I ask curiously.

"Like falling," he says quickly, looking ahead of himself.

"Falling where?" I ask confused.

He turns his head to me, and smiles. "Nowhere. Just falling. Jumping into a hole with no end, and falling eternally. Floating in the air."

"Everything has to end sometime, Mr. Salvatore," I say, not quite understanding what he wants to say.

"I guess that's when the heartbreak happens. When you finally hit the ground, when you feel like every bone in your body is breaking, and like your soul is leaving your body."

"Then what?"

"Then.. you get up and do it all over again. Because people are stupid enough to, when they heal, jump into another hole."

I frown. "Isn't that kind of silly? If you know you will fall, why jump?"

Stefan chuckles. "You never expect bad things to happen. When you're happy, being sad does not even cross your mind. When you jump, you do it without thinking, and then the sensation of falling hits you and you get lost in it. You forget that one day, you will hit the ground."

I want to say something, but I can't find the right words to say, so in return, I reply, "I do not believe in the existence of a soul."

He gets pale at my confession, but laughs nevertheless. "Of course a soul exists. Haven't you ever felt it?" he asks me curiously.

I'm confused. "How can you feel it?"

His loud inhale is followed by even louder exhale of hot air. He turns himself around, and takes my hand into his. He looks around himself to check if anyone is near, and then carries my hand up, and places it on my chest, where my heart is. His hand scrapes against my breast, and I can feel shivers inside of my body.

"It all starts here," he says, pressing my hand onto my chest, "Your heart begins to squeeze, you think you're going to die, you think you have no more air in your lungs so you're surprised when you find out you have plenty, and then, you feel a release. You get warm, inside, and you can feel this energy circling inside of your body. When you're happy, the feeling is wonderful. But when you're sad, you feel like your whole body is shattering," there's a look in his eyes like that feeling is all too well known to him, "You feel like something is trying to rip outside of your body, like part of you wants to leave you. Have you ever felt something like that?" he lets go of my hand and there's obvious disappointment in my eyes.

I nod. "Twice," he looks at me curiously after I admit, "When my parents died, and," I stop and look away from him, "This will sound very silly," I say through a light laugh. I raise my look back to him, and he's looking at me expectantly. "When I was a child, I don't believe I was older than five, I went to downtown with my mother. We were going to pick up my new dress, and I remember it was the first time my mother left my little brother home alone with the nanny, and she was very nervous, and I think, in a hurry to get home. When we stepped out of our carriage, my mother met some companion of hers, so I had to stand there still while they were talking. Of course, my look was wandering all over the place, until it finally fell on this little boy who was, back then, about my age. He was so sad, confused, lost. There were tears in his eyes, and I had no idea why is he sad, but I felt like I'm the only one who can understand him. He was standing next to some older boy, I presumed it was his brother, who also looked sad, but it was like he commanded himself not to cry, and succeeded. So I detached myself from my mother, and walked over to the boy. It was like.. it was like something was pulling me towards him. Like something is fighting its way out of my body, and unless I want to be ripped into shreds, I had to follow that feeling, and it led me to the boy across the street. I took my favorite floral tissue out of my pocket and handed it over to him. It was the only thing I could have done back then," I look into his eyes, and he's looking at me confused, almost shocked.

His cheeks are pale, but before I have a chance to ask him what's wrong, he reaches for his pocket and takes out a tissues I recognize immediately. Silky tissue with floral pattern, little paler now than it was the last time I had seen it.

I raise my look from the tissue to his face, and his lips form in the letter o before words escape them, "This tissue?"

**STEFAN'S POV**

While she's talking, I can place myself in the situation perfectly. It was twelve years ago, but somehow, I remember it like it was yesterday. Standing next to Damon while father is picking out a coffin for our mother. A girl about my age appearing out of nowhere, handing me a tissue and then disappearing.

It was her? Of course it was her. How did I not make the connection earlier? How did I not realize my soul played the same melody the first time I had seen Elena twelve years ago, and then when we met again, few months ago?

I'm holding a floral tissue in my hand, and she's, one minute, looking at it, and then the other, at me, with a confused expression on her face.

"It was you?" she asks like a scared child, and it takes me some time to respond because I'm as confused as much as she is.

"Apparently," I say, trying to search for similarities between Elena, and the little girl who's face is so well instilled into my memory.

"Of course it was you," she looks at me like she's remembering an old memory. "Now I know why the look behind your eyes is so familiar to me," a smile creeps on her face, "I was confused by it for such a long time, but now there's a connection," she says proudly upon discovering this.

"Do I still look like I'm in so much pain?" I ask her, afraid of her answer.

She shakes her head. "I'm not talking about the pain," a smile appears on her face, "But when I looked into your eyes for the first time, I was able to see behind the pain. And it was like you were looking the world with completely different eyes than all the people surrounding you. You have the same look now. Sometimes, I have a feeling, when you look at me," I can see her cheeks blush, "You're seeing me like no one else is."

I smile at her, and move myself closer to her, so she could hear me whisper, "Because when I look at you, I'm looking nowhere else but at your soul," my senses are overwhelmed by her scent, "I'm looking at your essence, and what I see is beautiful. More than beautiful, but I don't believe there's a word for me to describe how divine you are," and I pull myself away from her.

Elena and me are connected by a invisible, silver line of fate, I'm sure of it.

She reaches towards my hand and takes a tissue out of it. She's pulling it in between her fingers, and smiling. "Why did you keep it?" she asks.

"I do not know," I reply truthfully, because I do not understand reasons to why I kept this tissue and carried it everywhere with me. She looks at me confused, somewhat disappointed, so I continue, "It made me feel safe, like nothing can hurt me if it's with me. Whenever I was scared, all I had to do was reach into my pocket, and all the fear would disappear," I reach for her hand and take it into mine, "You're my guardian angel, Elena," I call her by her first name, because at this moment, I don't give a damn who can hear us.

She looks into my eyes and her whole being smiles at me, showering me with her light. "And you're mine," she says with a teary voice.

I want to kiss her, I really want to kiss her, and I can't. Not here. But none of that matters because our moment is interrupted by a familiar voice saying my name.

**KATHERINE'S POV**

I can see Stefan and Elena from miles away. They're sitting on the steps of the front porch, talking and looking at each other like their life depends on it. There's a part of me that loves Stefan as a friend, and I'm glad he has got someone like Elena, someone he can talk to, and someone who understands him. And then, there's this selfish part of me that is jealous of what those two have, because if I'm stuck with Stefan for the rest of my life, I want to make the best of it.

There's something about the way he looks at her. Something way too familiar.

He takes a hold of her hand. What are they doing? I feel a surge of jealousy go through me. I'm not in love with Stefan, but if I'm about to spend the rest of my life with him, he better only have eyes for me. Not anyone else but me, and especially not someone as beautiful as Elena.

I know Stefan my whole life, and he's showing more intimacy to this girl he met few months ago, than he ever did to me. He's caressing the top of her hand with his fingers, and his look is locked on her lips. She's smiling at him, and her eyes are almost inviting. The sight in front of me is making me want to throw up.

I'm walking closer to them, but they can't notice me. They're trapped in their own little world, and if I sat in between them, I'm not even sure they would notice me then.

I'm basically in front of them, and they're still not aware of my presence.

"Mr. Salvatore," I say his name sharply, and he raises his head in a hurry, practically throwing Elena's hand out of his. I barely hold my chuckle.

"Ms. Pierce," Stefan stands up and takes my hand into his, kissing the top of it. I giggle at him.

I look down at Elena who's cheeks are blushing. "Ms. Gilbert," I greet her and smile at her knowingly, which only makes her blush even more. She greets me silently, before Stefan interrupts the awkward silence that was about to follow.

"What are you doing here?" he asks playfully.

Hoping I would see Damon, maybe get a chance to talk to him. "I'm here to see you, of course," I lie, and there's a sudden grin on Elena's face, like she can see right through me. "And what are the two of you doing?" I ask so she can remove that smugly grin off her face.

"We were simply talking," Stefan says, stopping after every word, trying to think of an excuse, and I almost chuckle as his tongue gets tangled, "We awoke some sad memories, I fear. So I had to comfort Ms. Gilbert," his tongue finally gets untangled.

Lies.

Then he looks down at Elena, and there's that look, and I realize why it's so familiar.

I look the same way at Damon.

The only difference is, Elena is looking at him the same way he's looking at her.

Like she's completely overwhelmed by his presence.

I feel like screaming. Two Salvatores, neither of them mine.

"Would you care to join me for a walk?" I ask playfully as Stefan brings his look back at me, and looks at me with fake loveliness in his eyes.

He nods at me, and once again, turns his head away, towards Elena, and asks, "Would you like to join us, Ms. Gilbert?" he asks.

But before she has a chance to reply, I interrupt, "Actually, I would rather walk with you alone," I smile at Stefan as he looks at me.

He looks at me confused, he does not know what to say, so Elena helps him. "It's okay," she smiles, "I have to finish my homework anyway. I will be in my room if I'm needed, you two have a lovely walk," she smiles with the the most fake smile I've ever seen, gets her belongings, stands up and walks inside of the house.

"Shall we?" Stefan asks as he offers me his arm.

A wide smile appears on my face. "We shall," and I put my arm around his.

Is it so wrong to want them both?

* * *

**AN: Well, well, it seems Stefan and Elena have some history together.**

**I hope you have enjoyed the chapter, be sure to tell me what you think of it :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**DAMON'S POV**

She's lying next to me. My arm is under her body, and I'm holding her close to me, keeping my fingers wrapped around her arm, letting the warmth of her skin burn my fingertips. She's still asleep, and her head is resting on my chest. Her coal black hair is sprawled all over my chest, so I lower my head down and bury my face in her thick hair. It smells like some herb, but I can't recognize which one. When it comes to these sorts of things, I'm not smart. I know how to charm a lady by kissing the top of her hand or smiling at her like being in her presence is the most wonderful thing I've ever experienced in my life. But I'm not someone who would remember her favorite scent or the smell of her shampoo, or the date I've seen her for the first time in my life.

Well, at least I thought I'm not that kind of a person. That was always my brother's territory, practicing book romance. I'm raw.

I raise my head from her hair, and her smell is filling my nostrils, finding itself a home in them. And I decide to remember the scent, so I can find out which herb is at question.

She stretches her other hand over my stomach, and every time she presses her skin against mine, she leaves a mark on me, like she's marking her territory. I'm hers.

I smile at the contrast of white sheets and her dark, silky skin. Once again, I lower my head, and press my lips against the skin of her arm. I can feel her skin getting wet from the dampness of my lips, caused by my tongue going over them million of times as I've watched her sleep in my arms. I kiss her once, but she does not even flinch. She does not make a sound, nor does she give me a signal she felt my lips against her skin. So I kiss her again, and again, and again, and if she does not give me any signs she's awake, I'll keep doing this until she does.

I could keep doing this all day long.

Finally, she moans. It is the sweetest moan I've ever heard in my life, and a light smile appears on my face after I plant one of my kisses on the top of her head. She moans again, this time louder, turns her head and buries her face in my stomach.

I uncover her back, and glance at her skin, slowly remembering how good it is to feel her pressing next to me. I touch her shoulder with me finger before placing my whole arm on it. I start caressing her back by slowly pulling the tips of my fingers up and down her back.

"Damon," my name escapes her lips and vibrates against me skin.

I can't get used to her calling me by my first name, even though I'm the one who, a long time ago, asked her to do it.

My name, coming out of her mouth, sounds so sweetly, it's almost intoxicating to all of my senses.

She says my name like a warning, with her sleepy voice, her warm voice making my skin burn. I can feel her crinkle her nose against my stomach.

She puts her arms around me and snuggles me like I'm a pillow, and I move my fingers from her back to her head, and start pulling them through her hair. Her silent moan puts a smile on my face.

"You're awake," I plant a small kiss on the top of her head.

I can imagine her rolling her eyes. "Thanks to you," she replies lazily.

I was never here in the morning. After sleeping with a woman, I never stayed. I would leave instantly, or after few minutes. Sometimes we would have a smoke or a game of cards, or another drink, probably tenth that night, but most of the times, I would get dressed and leave.

I never stayed over until the morning, I never woke up next to someone. I never made love to a woman. I slept with many of them, but I haven't made love to any of them. Until now.

I guess there's a first time for everything.

As much as I hate to admit it, my brother was right, and I was wrong. He always stood up for me and my actions, but those actions were wrong. I can see that clearly now. I can see how stupid I was, how wrong I was.

But I do not regret anything, because every one of the steps I made, every mistake, every accusation, has lead me to her. I'm afraid, if I ever did anything differently, if I acted like a good son, I would be married now, and I would have never met her. I would have never had her.

Everything I have ever done seems so irrelevant now. Because now, when I look down at my arms, in them I have something more precious than the pleasure of irritating my father by doing something he's against. I'm looking down at her, and I can see an angel. I can see every one of my mistakes disappearing, because for some reason, she does not care for them.

All the women I slept with, all the things I did solemnly to spite my father, the opinions our society forces us to believe, she stepped over them, for me.

How lucky am I? Someone has decided I'm worth it. Someone, against all odds, chose me.

And how good it feels, to do something I want to do, and not something my father doesn't want me to do.

**BONNIE'S POV**

I'm waking up, and as sleep escapes me, the realization of the previous night hits me. I can hardly believe it was me who did it. My actions, it was like someone possessed my body, but in the same time it's nothing like that, because I can vividly remember wanting it. Wanting everything, Damon, his touch, his words to become reality.

Few hours ago, I was full of enthusiasm, and now, I'm questioning my own sanity.

This is what men like Damon Salvatore do to you. They whisper sweet nothings in your ear and you fall on them like they're the safest net, not even thinking about how hard you will fall when that net breaks.

I do not regret anything, though. Because only few hours ago, I wanted this, and I had a feeling if I don't have him, every bone in my body will break. And I'm sure, if it weren't for this fear, I would want him now too. I would not have to hide my face from him, if it weren't for this fear. I would be able to look him in the eyes and kiss his delicious lips.

I did what Elena told me to do, I listened to my heart. My brain, my gut, almost every organ in my body, and every one of it told me to give Damon a chance. To give myself a chance.

I was weary about it at first, because of my position. I'm a simple maid. My mother was a maid, and so was her mother. We're of a different race. All laws are against us. I did not want to do anything that could harm Elena's position in the house, or my own future, to be honest.

But Damon has a way of convincing you what he think is right, actually is right.

So here I am, victim of my own choices, influenced by someone else's words.

Next time Damon came up to me, in the shadows, I did not even try to resist his temptations. I simply gave in to his tender kisses, and his roaming hands. I would love to say he seduced me, but in all honesty, he did not even have to try that hard. All he had to do was to whisper in my ear, and I was his.

Few minutes later I was sinning in Heaven.

They do not teach us about these sorts of things. They do not teach us about lust, and want, and need, and passion. They expect us to wait until we're old enough to understand, setting that line way too high. Some people grow up before the others. They expect you to believe what they tell you, and follow their rules, before satisfying your own curiosity.

They never do warn you how hard is to say no, and how much you want to say yes. And that some people have little to lose by saying yes, but they do have something to gain.

They think fear rules us all, but it doesn't. It rules only few of us.

Damon begins to pull his fingers through my hair, and that throws me into a certain kind of trans, where only me, and his hands on me, exist. I'm enjoying every second of his touch, because I know this could be taken from me any minute now.

And as that thought crosses my mind, one fear is replaced by another.

I never knew Damon can be so gentle. He is rough by nature. His smile, face features, posture.. nothing about him is angelic or soft, and neither were his kisses or touch. Despite it, his kisses seemed to suit me, because my lips found home on his.

But he was, he was extremely gentle. He was treating me like I'm made out of glass, strategically planning his every touch, asking me am I fine, do I need anything. It was so unlike him, but then again, it was so like him - side of him, I feel like, no one else but me really knows exists.

I exhale loudly, unintentionally, and I only realize how loud and painful my voice sounded when I feel his body stiff. He instantly pulls his fingers away from my hair, and wakes me up from my trans.

"Are you okay?" he asks worried, his body still stiff under mine.

I, slowly and carefully, raise my head, and for the first time since tonight, my eyes lock on his. We hold each other's gaze, there's a blank stare in my eyes, and there's fear and worry in his.

Until I smile. And as I do, his whole being smiles at me in return.

"I'm perfect," I reply, and he plants a kiss in the middle of my forehead.

I lower my head back on his chest.

I can worry later.

**STEFAN'S POV**

We're walking down the lane, like we do every day for these past few weeks.

We're always walking close to each other, sometimes our arms scrape against one another, but we're never close enough to actually touch. We're too afraid someone will see us, that someone will find out our secret we're trying so hard to keep from others. Sometimes I ask myself why. What's the point in hiding in?

But then again, everyone finding out is a scary thought to bare, and it happening would be even scarier to deal with.

These past few days Elena is very distant, though. She does not let me kiss her, or touch her. She's barely looking at me while I'm talking to her, and she keeps her replies short and simple.

She's not ignoring me, though. She seems mad, or disappointed, but she's not ignoring me. It's like she has to be in my presence even though she's displeased with me for something. Or maybe she's trying to prove something.

She also seems very tired lately, and paler than usually, but I know better than comment on it, especially now when she seems to think I've wronged her somehow.

I turn my head to her, and when I see the look on her face, fear and pain mixed with sadness, I know I'm about to go against my better judgment. "Elena," I whisper her name, only loud enough for her to hear me, and she turns her head to me, same emotions still visible in her eyes. "Are you feeling alright?" I ask gently.

She furrows her brows, but nods her head lightly. "Yes," she replies simple and short.

I exhale quietly while I keep glancing at her.

Suddenly, she turns her head to me in a hurry, with her brows still furrowed, and asks bluntly, "Do we have a future, Mr. Salvatore?" she calls me by my last name, which, these days, she uses only when she's being serious, or playful. And right now she does not sound playful at all.

Do we have a future? I would love to say yes. I would love to have any kind of answer to that question. The more I keep her waiting, the more she frowns.

After almost a minute of silence, she looks like she's boiling, and she waves me off. "Excuse me," she says sharply, "Forget I ever asked anything," she turns her head away and keeps walking straight forward.

"No," I say determined as I stop walking and stand still in place. She stops too and turns around on her heel. "Let's talk," I decide to remove my serious voice, because I would hate her to think I'm ordering her around.

"What are we doing here?" she says desperately.

"What do you mean?" I try to understand her question, but I fail at doing so.

"You're to marry another woman," she says silently, but sharply. And those words, like two pointed knife, cut us both.

Katherine. I have to marry Katherine.

I can't imagine that kind of life for myself. Having to marry Katherine and forget Elena. As I think about it, I would rather die, right here, right now. Living without Elena is like not living at all, anyway.

"I know," I try to find some other words, but there are none. There's only truth. I am to marry another woman. The fact I do not want to is a completely different story.

"She wants you," Elena says, somewhat jealous, if I might add.

I shot her a serious look, because I have a feeling that by saying Katherine wants me, she thinks I want her back. "She wants my brother," I say sharply.

But Elena dismisses my words. "How about those private walks?" she's clearly angry, and so am I, even a little offended, that she would think I would ever want anything with Katherine.

"She's bored," I keep my voice as calm as possible, "She plays with people like she used to play with her dolls," for the first time I express my opinion about Katherine out loud, and as I do, the fear in Elena's eyes disappears completely.

Is this the moment I tell her I love her? Is this the right time to tell her I'm completely in love with her, and that there's no turning back? When I admit she's the only woman for me?

Doesn't she already know that? Can't she feel we're meant to be?

She exhales and I can even see the corners of her lips curving into a smile. She makes few steps forward in my direction and asks, "Am I worth fighting for?"

She takes me off guard, and it takes me a while to realize what she's really asking for.

My father will not take this lightly. Since this whole thing started, I've been thinking about how to tell my father. How to tell him I do not want to marry Katherine, that I'm not going to marry Katherine. How to prove to him that I love Elena and that she's the only woman for me, and that if I searched the whole world I would not find another person who suits me better than her? Would my father understand? How would he react? Would he consider my wishes?

And how to tell Katherine? All of this is so unfair to her.

But before I have a chance to tell Elena that yes, that I can't think of a better person who's more worth fighting for than she is, I can see her eyes shut, and her legs give up on her, and I catch her in the mid air. She falls right into my arms.

I call her name, but there is no answer.

* * *

**AN: Again, I'm really sorry it took me so long to update, but my exams are on in January/February, and I simply do not have that much time to write now. I wish I did, though.**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, be sure to tell me what you think about it!**


	13. Chapter 13

**STEFAN'S POV**

I say her name, once, twice, three times. I keep saying her name until those three times turn into an uncountable screams, and as my voice becomes louder and sharper, even more desperate, her name, coming out of my mouth does not sound melodic or angelic anymore. My voice cuts her name into million little pieces with it's sharpness, and I can feel it falling down my throat, burning my lungs, just like I can feel her body slipping from my fingers and her closed eyes, that do not want to open, are burning mine.

I scream so many times that, after some time, no voice comes out of my mouth, and I swallow her name before I move the strain of hair that fell across her face, pull her body closer to mine, and pick her up in my arms.

I was never considered strong, or masculine. I am not used to physical work, and I think the hardest thing I got to carry were books. But I swear, carrying Elena, knowing she needs help, being aware I'm the only one present and that I have to get her to help, was the easiest thing I've ever done. Elena was petite, but she still was a grown human being, but in my arms, she was as light as a feather.

I'm moving faster with her in my arms than I would be moving if my own life was in danger. I can see the house in the distance, and the more I am moving, the further the house seems.

I look down at her face, her nose is nuzzling against my shirt, the corners of her lips are turned down, and her closed eyes make my heart squeeze. The only thing that is keeping me from stopping and crumbling on the ground beside her is a small, light stream of air coming out of her mouth. One of her hands is pressing onto my chest, and the other one is hanging on the side of her body. Her dress is fluttering in the wind as I move faster towards the house. I can feel her hair in between my fingers that are pressing onto her back. I'm holding her so hard, pressing my fingers next to her skin, that I can feel the bones of her spine under my fingertips. Her chest is pressing next to mine, and I can feel it rising, slowly, but steadily.

I finally reach the house, and in the moment I put my foot on the first step of the porch, the front door fly open, and Damon and Katherine emerge from them. I'm a little surprised at the sight of the two of them together, but there is no time to wonder about that. By the time I make another step, Damon is already beside me, checking Elena's pulse.

"What happened?" his eyes fly wide open, and I can't help but think his voice sounds accusatory. I try to dismiss that thought, because anything trying to ruin my focus on Elena must be destroyed. She is my top priority. For a moment, my look flies over to confused Katherine, but shortly after goes back to Damon.

"I do not know," I say firmly, trying too hard not to sound like I'm defending myself so my brother wouldn't get a wrong idea, "We were taking a walk, chatting, and she just collapsed," my look goes from my brother to Elena, who is still unconscious in my arms.

Damon, out of some, to me, unknown reason, tries to take her out of my arms, but I do not let him. He tries to pull her out of my embrace, and when my hold on her tightens, he looks at me confused. I do not react to his confusion, but make another step, and Katherine has to jump away from the entrance so Elena's legs do not brush against her body as I speed up.

My brother is faster, and stronger, and he would be ably to carry Elena up the stairs quicker than me. But I can't part from her, I can't give her away into someone else's arms, not when she fell into mine.

I also do not believe I was, in my life, quicker than I am now. Even though I'm carrying a grown woman in my arms, I'm taking two steps at the time, and before I know it, I'm on the top floor, in front of her room, trying to get the door open.

I try to turn the doorknob, but I can't seem to position my hand on it in the right way while holding Elena in my arms. Luckily, once again, Damon shows up and opens the door for me. This would be the first time I'm going to step inside of Elena's bedroom, but in this situation, I do not have time to react how I probably would in any other situation. I do not pay attention to details or something that would remind me of her, but walk over to the bed and slowly put her on the top of it.

"We need a doctor," I say in panic, talking to Damon but not turning around to face him, keeping my look locked on Elena's pale cheeks.

"I already sent Katherine to inform father," he replies.

The next thing I can hear is a woman's shriek, and I instantly turn around. I can see Jenna standing in front of the door, her eyes wide open, and her hands covering her mouth. A moment later Katherine appears behind her, and I assume father is not far behind her.

I look back at Elena, lower my head on hers, my forehead is scraping against hers, and before I plant a kiss on it, I whisper to her, "Elena, please be okay. I love you. I need you. Please," and the next thing I can feel is my fathers hands on my shoulders, pulling me off of her. I stumble back as he pushes me away and checks Elena's pulse by himself.

As I stumble backwards I bump into Damon, and when I turn around, I can see nothing but confusion in his eyes. He heard my words, there's no doubt.

**KATHERINE'S POV**

When I see Elena in Stefan's arms, another stream of jealousy flashes through me. I feel like an awful person. There's something wrong, something going on, and all I can think about is how I wish it was me in his arms.

I love Damon. I want Damon. But he is never going to be mine. When I came over here today I was so happy when I bumped into him and got to engage in a conversation with him. But the more we talked, the more I realized he's still looking at me as a child, as a girl who is promised to his brother. He cannot see I grew out into a woman while he wasn't looking, and he's not looking at me as a potential life partner. He does not even look at me with lust or want, but a certain kind of innocence.

And Stefan, he's not so bad. He's no Damon, he's not wild, or spontaneous, or a risk taker. He will probably never take me out of the city, but he will provide me with safety, which is strangely underrated, especially by us young. And with time, maybe I'll learn how to love him in a way a woman loves a man, and maybe he will be able to do the same.

But Stefan basically throws me on the ground as he passes by me with Elena in his arms. There's a concern on his face, kind of concern I've never seen before, on anyone. Concern mixed with desperation and sadness. I've also never seen him quicker in his life than he is now. When I compose myself and look inside, he's already at the end of the stairs.

Before I have a chance to react, Damon grabs me by the shoulders, and his touch feels so heavenly on my skin. I feel like I'm in a middle of a sweetest dream I ever had, and I do not want to wake up. But I have to, because Damon shakes me while calling my name.

"Go find my father," he orders me, and I nod with head, "And tell him what has happened. Tell him to send for a doctor," I would never think of ignoring Damon's demands. "Do you understand?" he shakes me one more time, and this time harder. He is pretty rough towards me, but out of some reason, I actually like it. I think about not responding to him so he can shake me one more time. So I can feel it.

So I can feel something. Anything.

But Damon looks like he's in a panic, and I do not like seeing him like this. This vulnerable. In my mind, Damon cannot get hurt, or experience pain. In my mind, he's the only person who could protect me from all the bad things, like fear and pain, out of that simple reason - he can't experience any of those negative feelings.

I tell him I understand, and he follows Stefan upstairs. I find Mr. Salvatore, and Jenna, in his study, and explain the situation to both of them. Jenna sobs and runs upstairs even before I get to finish, and when I explain the situation to Mr. Salvatore to the fullest, he goes to find and send one of the help to the town to get a doctor, and I follow Jenna upstairs.

By the time I get there, Stefan is sympathetically looking at Jenna, and for a moment, our eyes lock. But he detaches his look from mine only seconds later and looks back at Elena. He lowers his head and presses it against hers, and second time today I wish it was me in her place. I wish someone cared for me the way he cares for her. I can hear him whisper something, but I'm too far away to hear actual words that come out of his mouth.

I always thought of Stefan as a second choice. As of someone I have to settle to, someone I will learn to love with time.

I did not even think he might fall in love with someone else, and that I'll have to learn how to share his heart with a memory of some other woman for the rest of our lives.

**DAMON'S POV**

I've never seen my brother so desperate. I look into his eyes, and the look hiding behind them is so familiar, but yet so far away. And after few seconds of thinking, it takes me to one certain place, one bad memory, one nightmare none of us were able to run away from, not even with time. The time our mother died.

I was something older than Stefan, and it was a little bit easier for me, since I knew what's going on. I knew how to hide my tears in public, because it is a shame for a male to cry, especially in front of others. I cried in the privacy of my own room, even long after she was gone. _"You're not bad Damon, nor you're wrong,"_ she used to say after I earned some of the beating from father for my misbehavior, _"You're simply not afraid to stand up for what you believe in. You're so opinionated, and strong, and willful,"_ she would kiss my forehead, and trail the path of tears on my face with her finger, tears I tried to hide from her, _"But Damon, my son, you have to learn how to direct all of those things in the right direction."_

I have missed my mother for a very long time, and sometimes I would resent her for leaving me all alone with father. With a man who listened to me but never heard me, a man who never understood me, and who believed everything can be solved with a good beating. Sometimes I wanted to run away, run far away, and the only thing that kept me from doing so was my brother.

I remember his face when father told him mother passed away. Our father was not always like this. There were times when he was warmer, times when he smiled and directed kind words to us. He was a better person around our mother. He was always rough by nature, but somehow, she managed to make his good traits shine. And when she died, all of his good traits went back into the shadow.

_"Stefan, son, come here, sit,"_ I remember father saying when one of the maids brought Stefan into the room. I was sitting on the sofa next to father, and Stefan sat on the sofa across us. He was so little, only four at the time, with his fair, blonde hair, and big, green eyes. Me and Stefan do not resemble much, we never did. My hair is dark, his is fair, I am, and I hate to say it, as rough by nature as my father is, and Stefan is a picture perfect of our mother.

While we were growing up, people used to say we are brother's by one especially visible thread. We're our mothers son's, because both of us share the size of her heart. We would always protect each other from every harm that comes our way. Stefan was always weaker than me, he was weaker than most of the boys, and I endured many beatings from our father that were meant for him. I was afraid Stefan would not take them well. He was so little, always so little, and father's hand was strong and his slaps were rough and fast.

_"Do you know anything about death, son?"_ father asked, and Stefan's eyes grew bigger with curiosity as he shook his head no.

I remember wanting to protect him from the truth, from the knowledge, from what is coming next. Mother was sick for a very long time, and she was in a better place now, I knew that. But there was no possible way for a four year old to understand it.

_"It is like a deep sleep. You do not hear or feel anything, and because of that, you're able to sleep for an eternity,"_ confusion washed over Stefan's face as he looked at father with his big eyes, like he does not understand the word father is saying, _"It's a sleep from which you're never able to wake up. That's where your mother is now. Do you understand?"_

But Stefan did not respond to his question. He did not even blink, he just kept staring at our father like he's expecting more, like he's expecting a real explanation.

_"Do you understand?"_ this time, father raised his voice, clearly frustrated by Stefan's inability to understand death.

I could see tears grouping in my little brother's eyes, so I jumped off the sofa, took him by the hand, and lead him out of the room.

Stefan looked at me, and there was a certain kind of desperation in his eyes. He did not know what's going on, but he knew he's losing something.

And when he appeared in front of me with Elena in his arms, I saw the same look in his eyes. Fear of losing something.

But this time he could understand exactly what, and in which way, he could be losing.

And I feel like I can understand him, because for the first time after a long while, I have something to lose too.

Someone to lose.

I can feel the same desperation he's feeling, because I can see myself in his shoes, I can imagine feeling the same way. Helpless. Like I want to do something, but I can't, because I do not know how.

I start panicking.

I'm also surprised by my brother's strength and quickness while he's carrying Elena in his arms.

Everything is happening so fast. Stefan is pushing me away to get Elena into the house, I command Katherine to find my father so he can send for help, I'm on the stairs and only seconds later opening the door of Elena's room so Stefan can get her in. And the next thing I know, I'm watching my brother lower his head on Elena's, in front of everyone to see, kissing her forehead, and whispering to her that he loves her.

**STEFAN'S POV**

The doctor came fairly quick after he was sent for. When father came into the room, pushed me away from Elena, and checked her pulse, he asked me multiple times what has happened. And every time I would reply in the same way - I do not know. He eyed me wearily every time, and it made me feel uncomfortable.

I wish I knew what happened to her. I wish I could help in some way. But I can't. The woman I love is lying there, I do not even know if she's awake, or what's wrong with her in the first place, and I feel helpless.

I feel like screaming, or tearing something apart. I feel like punching a hole in the wall. I never felt this violent before, like I want to take care of my pain and frustration in a physical way.

When father was, for a millionth time in a row, asking me what has happened, I wanted to explode.

When the doctor came, he asked everyone to leave the room. I wanted to stay, but I also did not want to intertwine, because all I want is for Elena to get better.

Father took Jenna downstairs, and Damon and Katherine went with them. But I stayed in front of her room. I sat down on the floor, next to the door of her bedroom, and waited for the doctor to come out with some news. I wish Caroline were here, she always knows the right thing to say, or at least what I want to her. I really need someone to tell me everything is going to be okay, even if it's a lie.

I hear someone's footsteps on the stairs, and my look flies over towards the staircase. I hope someone sent for Caroline, I hope she's coming here to be with me, but by the hardness of footsteps I should have known it's not her - it's my brother.

When he sees me, the corners of his lips curve into a smile, and I feel like I have no other choice but to smile back, even though I do not feel like smiling at all. He sits next to me, and for a while, we sit there in silence.

"You love her, little brother?" Damon finally says, and for a moment there, I'm not sure if he's asking or telling me. I think about hiding it, but what's the point? I'm fairly certain he had heard me before. Also, I'm tired of denying it. I'm tired of hiding it from others. The more I'm denying it to others, the more I feel like I'm ashamed to admit it to them. Maybe even to myself. And I'm not. I do not want to be.

"I'm in love with her," I say honestly, looking at my brother. I expect him to be at least a little bit shocked, but he's not.

"Does she feel the same way?" he asks, somewhat concerned.

I hope so. "Yes," I try to sound sure, "I believe she does."

We keep staring at each other.

"I do not know what will I do if something happens to her, Damon," I open myself up to my brother, I open myself up to him like I only opened to Caroline and Elena, "Now when I know how is it to have her in my life, I do not think I could ever bare her not being there," I say truthfully, "I do not think I want to."

Damon looks at me, and I have a feeling like he understands me, which is strange. I never had a feeling like he has an idea what I'm talking about, until today. Like he feels the same way as I do, which is, to me, unthinkable. When has Damon ever been in love?

Before we get a chance to engage in further discussion, father, Jenna and Katherine come up the stairs. Both me and Damon stand on our feet, and as we do, the doctor opens the door to Elena's room.

All of us look at him at the same time, and in the moment he opens his mouth to speak, I hear her saying my name with the faintest voice possible.

"Stefan," she says, and I have a feeling like she has no idea where she is or what she's saying, "I want Stefan," and as those words escape her lips, I feel like my heart traveled to me heel, and I squished it.

I can feel everyone looking at me. "May I?" I look at the doctor.

He nods his head yes, and without thinking, without caring what anyone may think, I step inside of Elena's room, hurry to her and sit on the edge of her bed. She looks at me tiredly, and I take her hand into mine, and before she closes her eyes again, she whispers my name one more time.

* * *

**AN: I feel like Katherine has no idea what love is. She thinks she's in love with Damon, but she's in love with the image she has of him, not in who he really is, since she does not know a thing about him, only what he chooses to show to others. She thinks she will be able to fall in love with Stefan if she makes him have only eyes for her. It's like she's mixing love with adoration. Maybe Katherine never will learn what love is.**

**Uh oh, it seems Elena is sick. Will she get better, or will this disease turn out to be fatal for her?**

**I'll be able to update more often from now on, since I have only two more exams left this following week, and then I'm done! **


	14. Chapter 14

**STEFAN'S POV**

They haven't let me see Elena since the day she passed out, and it has been almost a month since then. Actually, no one has been allowed in the room except the doctor, Jenna and few other maids.

I barely know the state of her condition, since father doesn't even let me talk to the doctor. He keeps eyeing me wearily, and when I ask him why is he keeping the news about Elena's condition away from me, he tells me off. I fear he had heard me when I whispered to Elena that I love her, or that he saw the way I was looking at her. You can find out a lot about the way people feel about each other from the look in their eyes. Maybe he found it strange how she asked for me in the middle of her delirium. I'm afraid he's going to send her away when she gets better. I'm afraid she will never get better.

I do not know which of those two options is worse. Losing her forever, or knowing she's out there, but being unable to be with her.

I'm afraid she will pass away, and that I will never have a chance to tell her how I feel about her. That I will never have a chance to tell her I love her.

I want my future to be with her. I want to marry her, make love to her, have children with her, make her happy, kiss her and remind her everyday that she's the woman I love. That she's the only woman I ever loved. I do not care what anyone thinks I should do, or what they want me to do, Elena is the woman I love, and I refuse to settle down for anything less.

Since everything that has happened, everyone are acting differently, everyone are treating me differently. I haven't seen much of Elena's maid, Bonnie, but I've heard her cry few times I passed in front of her room. Ever since Damon found out I'm in love with Elena, he has been treating me like I'm made out of glass, even though the cases I see him are rare. Jenna's look towards me is warmer, and Katherine's is colder. She seems sadder, too. I know this is an unusual way to describe Katherine since she's always so cheerful, but when you really look into her eyes, a certain kind of sadness is always present there. Father acts like he has nothing to talk about with me. Caroline's here often. She's always with me, and she makes my days lighter. She even managed to get a smile out of me few times. She really is a good friend. A best friend a person can wish for. She sits with me, sometimes for hours, trying to get my mind of things. I feel too sorry to tell her nothing can take my mind of Elena, so I try to seem brighter, for her.

Everyone seem to move on with their lives, everyone but me. They're getting lost in their routine, but I can't even seem to remember how my life was before Elena came into it. I can't even remember what I did for the whole day before I got the privilege of enjoying her company. My days are empty, and I spend them sitting in front of her room, hoping I would get a glimpse of her when someone opens the door.

I'm sitting in front of her door, reading a book my tutor has assigned to me, when I hear footsteps on the stairs. I jump on my feet, and when I see a glimpse of my fathers half yellow, half grey hair, I run to hide. If he had seen me camping in front of Elena's room, he would be displeased. I hide behind the corner, and watch my father as he stands in front of Elena's room, his hands crossed on his back. The doctor comes out of her room, and father greets him.

"How is Ms. Gilbert today?" I hear father asking with an unusually pleasant voice.

The doctor takes his thick glasses off and cleans them with a small piece of cotton he pulls out of his jacket pocket. Then, he exhales loudly. "Not well, I fear," he says sadly, and my heart turns into stone inside of my chest. "Her fever is still present. One days it's lower, the other it's higher. None of the medicine seems to work on her. She delirious, so she rambles a lot, she often calls for her parents. Poor thing, this sudden change in environment was not so pleasant for her, her system never fully adjusted. And she's so petite," the doctor tells sadly, and I have a feeling like someone punched me in the chest, and pulled my still beating heart through my skin.

"Be honest with me doctor," father swallows, "Is she going to live?"

Both of our looks fall on the doctor, fathers only inches, and my few steps away.

Doctor exhales pretty loudly again, and then he says, "No one can be sure. Right now, things do not look so good, but they can change any minute now."

Hope. There is hope.

Father nods and I watch him and the doctor leave.

Something is clenching around my heart. There's a possibility she will live.

But there's also a possibility she will die.

I have to see her.

So I wait for everyone to go to sleep, and sneak out of my bedroom and sneak into Elena's. There are few candles lit up in her room, and I walk closer to her bed. She looks like a ghost of the girl she was not so long ago. Her once long, soft, brown hair is now tied in a bun, and it seems very dry. She is pale, paler than she usually is, and there's no pepper red blush on her cheeks.

No matter how she looks like, she's the woman I love.

I take her hand into mine. Her skin is burning hot.

"Elena, can you hear me?" I ask, but she does not reply. She does not even look like she can hear me. "I suppose not," a smile creeps in the corners of my lips. "But Elena, you have to live, do you hear me?" I whisper with a teary voice, "You have to get better. You have to keep on fighting," I caress her cheek, and it's ever hotter than the skin of her hand. "Because I have to tell you I love you when you can hear me. When you can understand me. I want to see the look in your eyes as I say those words," a tear falls down my cheek as I realize I may never see her beautiful eyes again, "Do not leave me. We're supposed.." I choke on my own words, "We're supposed to grow old together. Build a life together. Have children. I want all of those things with you, love. And if I can't have them with you, I do not want them at all."

And I mean it. I mean every word of it.

**KATHERINE'S POV**

Maybe it's selfish from me to say so, but these past few weeks have been very sad for me. I know Elena is fighting for her own life, but so am I, in a way.

I'm fighting for my own sanity.

I've watched Stefan these past few weeks, I've watched him fake a smile, struggle to make small chat, I've seen his world crumble down in his eyes when someone mentions Elena. He views every intake of air with such a horror, like he's ashamed of doing so, like he does not want to. Sometimes I think, if Elena died, Stefan would be able to will himself to stop breathing.

In the course of four weeks, I've seen a boy whom I know since early childhood, fall apart like his own heart has been taken away from him. And I wonder can anyone else notice it, and if they can, why is no one doing anything to help him? The look in his eyes is completely devastating.

Is it wrong from me to wish for someone to wear that look for me? If I wish someone feels so strongly for me?

How is it to have a power to destroy someone completely? I doubt you would ever want to do that to someone you love, but I also doubt you have control over it. I simply want to know how does it feel when you're someone's everything.

And as much as I want to be someone's everything, I want someone to be my everything. I want to know how it is to feel empty without someone, solemnly so I can know how is it to finally feel complete.

It was so easy to give up on Damon, who was never mine, because I knew no matter what I'll have Stefan. But I never will have Stefan. Even if they force us to marry, even if they part him from Elena, his heart will always be with her. She will always be on his mind, possessing him. Stefan is Elena's, for eternity. I suppose that is how it was always supposed to be. Stefan may learn how to love me, but he will never fall in love with me. He will never look at me with that look in his eyes.

And if they force me to marry him, I'll have to live with a man and wonder every day does he see another woman in my eyes. Is he trying to imagine I am her. Stefan was always my second choice, but for Stefan, there is no second choice. It's Elena, or no one.

In my mind, it's been so easy for me to give up on Damon. I never even tried. I was always trying to find excuses, I was successful in finding them, but I have never put much effort for him to see me in a new light.

Makes me wonder, do I even know what love is? If it comes one day, will I know how to recognize it?

**CAROLINE'S POV**

Elena is the best thing that has ever happened to Stefan, but in the same time, she's also the worst thing.

She has made him so happy, happiest I've ever seen him in our entire lives. No one compares to her. The smile she puts on his face cannot be described with words. There's something divine about that sort of a smile. She filled him with incredible joy and purpose, and I know for a fact that she made him feel like he's born again. She made him look at the word with a completely different set of eyes.

But she also made him the saddest I've ever seen him in all the years I've known him. She completely destroyed him with something that was out of her control, which makes me wonder, how much could she hurt him if she ever wanted to? One wrong word out of her mouth, and she would be able to make his heart stop beating.

She filled him with such fear to live without her. Now when he knows how it is to live with her, he thinks there's no possible way he can do otherwise.

The scariest thing is, I do not think he can live without her. I do not think he wants to.

I have been sitting by him every day for these last few weeks. I have seen him shatter emotionally and physically. He tried to fake a smile to make me think he's okay, but he's not very conceivable.

I wish there's something I could do for him. I wish there was a way to cheer him up.

But the only way to do so is to help her, and unfortunately, I do not know how to do that.

So every night I pray that his best choice does not end up being his worst choice.

**STEFAN'S POV**

Summer passed like it came, unannounced, and in a whisper. Elena spent her Summer chained to her bed, and I spent it chained to the door of her bedroom. I barely got out, and soon enough, my skin became pale as hers was. Sometimes, Caroline and Damon were successful in dragging me out, and I would smile to indulge them, even though that smile had hurt me like a knife in my chest. It was like I made a silent promise I will not smile until Elena's there to smile with me.

Sometimes, when no one was near, Jenna would leave the door of Elena's bedroom half opened, so I could read to her. I would sit on the floor and lean on a wall next to her bedroom, and I would read to her for hours. I had hoped the sound of my voice would bring her back to me.

They still did not allow anyone in her room, but every now and then, I would sneak into her room, usually when she was sleeping, to tell her I love her, to ask her to keep fighting. I have not seen her eyes in months, and I was struggling with keeping them from fading away from my memory.

The doctor asked us to gather around in the living room, that he has something important to discuss with us. My heart was racing, pounding wildly, as I sat next to my brother, who was patting me on the back every few minutes. Jenna, Bonnie and father were there too, and all of us stood on our feet when the doctor came into the room.

He took his glasses of his face and started cleaning them, which only made me nervous. I wanted to tell him to hurry up and tell us what he intended to. He had put little beige cotton napkin back into the pocket of his jacket, and his glasses back on his face.

"Ladies and gentleman," he had cleared his throat through a cough, "I'm happy to say Ms. Gilbert's condition has been improving," he said as a smile crept on his face.

I was stunned, I was waiting for reactions of others. Have I heard it right? Elena is going to be okay? She's going to live? Damon patted me on the back again, this time more encouragingly. Jenna and Bonnie were ecstatic, and even father seemed pleased. I was still in shock.

"I did not want to say anything sooner until I was sure her life is out of danger," doctor smiled at everyone's happiness.

As he said so, everyone showered him with questions. Everyone except me. It seemed like I lost my ability to speak.

Doctor raised his hand in the air. "Now, Ms. Gilbert will need a lot of rest. You will have to make sure she eats properly, and when she regains her strength, she should be able to try to walk," the doctor warned us, and everyone took these directions with grave seriousness on their faces.

"Also, Mr. Salvatore," doctor looked at me, and I froze, because as he directed those words to me, everyone locked their looks on me, "Ms. Gilbert requested to see you first," I had to try mighty hard to keep a dopey smile off my face.

My look fell on my father. "May I?" I asked respectfully, with pleading eyes. And as father looked into my eyes, it was like something had switched in him. His face was less stiff, and there was a sign of a smile in the corners of his lips as he said, "Go on."

And with his permission, I was up the stairs in a flash. I knocked on the door of her bedroom, barely restraining myself from barging in.

"Come in," I have heard a familiar voice. The door of her bedroom flew wide open, and I stepped in. She was sitting in her bed, still pale, but less than she was before. There was even a trace of blush on her cheeks, and her lips seemed full and silky again. Her hair was no longer tied in a bun, but it was falling over her shoulders. She looked less sick, even though the fever had left its trace on her. "Stefan," she said with a feeble voice as she stretched her hand out in my direction.

I ran to her, sat on the edge of her bed, took her hand into mine, and kissed the top of it. She released a light giggle. "I feel like I haven't seen you in years," she whispered.

"I've been right here, beautiful," I complimented her, because a lady should be complimented in every situation. "I was so afraid for you," I said sadly. I tried not to, though.

"I came back to you," her response followed mine fairly quickly, "I will always come back to you."

* * *

**AN: Many of you said you love Defan relationship here. I love it too! I really do believe they had this kind of relationship while they were human.**


	15. Chapter 15

**STEFAN'S POV**

Elena has been getting better with each passing day. At first, she was not allowed to leave the bed unless she had to use the bathroom, so I would keep her company. I would read to her, and sometimes she would make me tell her everything that happened in the months she was ill. I had to gather some gossip from Caroline so I would be able to entertain Elena. When I was not able to be with her, during my tutoring or while I had some other obligations, Bonnie was keeping her company.

And then, after only a week, doctor said she should try to get out of bed now. First, she was only able to walk around her bathroom, but soon enough she gathered enough strength to take walks outside. It took her some time to get used to the sun again since it was pretty dark in her room during the last few months.

She is still weak, and she has to lean on someone during her walks, and that person is usually me. I spend a lot of time with her, and this time, we're not hiding. I do not kiss her in front of others, nor do I tell her how much I love her, but we laugh louder, and we do not hide our exchange of small physical contact. I'm careful not to do such things in front of Katherine, because she seems especially sad these days. No one seems to react to the change in our behavior, even though father still does not talk to me the way he used to.

"Be careful," I say with a smile on my face as I help Elena step down from the stairs. I hold her hand in mine, and I can feel how weak her grip on me is, but then again stronger than it was few weeks ago.

She holds her skirt in between the fingertips of her other hand, and weekly smiles at me. "Without you, I would fall apart," she says, and I think the same thing. Without her, I would fall apart, but in a completely different way.

The moment she steps down from the stair, I hear my father's loud and irritated voice, screaming, "You what?"

The blood in my veins freezes, and the hair on my arms go straight up, and like she can feels my nervousness, Elena's grip on my hand gets stronger. I have heard father use this tone of voice many times before, and most of the times, it was directed towards my brother. I haven't heard them fight in quite some time, and the sound coming from father's study is very unpleasant to me.

I hear Damon's voice, but I cannot recognize the words coming out of his mouth, maybe because he's talking too fast, and with too much rage.

I start walking towards the study, and I can hear Elena's slow and weak gaze behind me. I open the door and look from my father to my brother, both of their hands on the edge of the writing table, and they are looking at each other like two blood hungry animals. There's rage in my father's eyes, and there's rage in Damon's eyes, but in his, there's also fear.

"What in the world is going on?" I ask, worried about the sight in front of me. Damon turns his head to me, with his 'this-is-none-of-your-business-baby-brother' look, but father opens his mouth to speak. He composes his posture, and as his look falls on me, and Elena who is clutching to my arm behind my back, he calms down a bit.

"Ms. Gilbert," he nods his head to her, and I can hear Elena swallow, "Your maid, Bonnie," and Elena's grip on my arms tightens, she grips on me so hard I can feel her nails in my skin, "Apparently, she's pregnant."

I look at Elena, and her head is lowered, but I manage to get a glance of her eyes, and there's no shock in them, as much as there's worry.

"And my son here," he points to Damon, and as he does, I look back at my brother, "Claims to be the father," I look Damon in the eyes, and I don't believe I have ever seen him so scared in his life.

"Because I am," Damon says silently, looking at me, looking at Elena, who's still looking down.

"No," father says determinedly, "You're not," he hisses through his teeth.

Damon turns his head to father and snaps tiredly, "Yes, I am!"

Father puts his fist on the table, and I can feel Elena jump behind me, "You do not understand," father hisses again, "Even if you are, you are not," he looks at Damon significantly.

Damon looks at him shocked, astonished, even with a certain amount of disgust. My look shoots towards father too, and I don't know what I'm more, shocked by Damon's actions, or disgusted by father's proposal.

Damon frowns and gets closer to father, over the table, "You disgust me. I do not have an intention of leaving a woman who is with my child," this time Damon is the one who hisses.

Father looks furious now. The vein on his forehead pops out, and he says, "You have done a lot of things Damon, and I was able to cross over every one of them, but this," father bites his lower lip, "I no longer consider you my son," he says calmly, and I lose my breath. I have heard father and Damon fight many times, but never, in all these years, have I heard father saying such a thing.

I look at Damon, and now, the fear in his eyes is mixed with pain. "Well, you're not much of a father," Damon says silently, but sharply, "Nor are you such a great man, either."

"Get out of my house," father says, so close to Damon's face.

"Father!" I say, horrified with his words.

But he ignores me. "Get out of my house!" this time, he screams.

"Gladly!" Damon screams back. He turns around and walks out of the room, brushing his arm against mine. Father falls back on his chair and sighs, putting his palm over his face.

Elena is still clutching to my arm, and I turn around to run after Damon, but Elena does not let go of me, so I pull her with me.

"Damon!" I scream my brothers name, and I catch him as he's about to open the front door. He grabs the doorknob, he turns his head around to look at me. I can see him swallow, but he does not say anything. He opens the door and slams them behind himself.

I feel so helpless. I hate this feeling. I hate when people I love are hurting, and I can't do anything to help them.

I turn around to look at Elena, who's still glued to me, and her look is locked on the floor.

"Did you know anything about this?" I ask as I hope her answer is no.

She raises her look to me, and her eyes are big and shiny, but they hold an answer I do not want to hear.

"Elena, did you know Damon is with Bonnie?" I ask, this time more sharply.

"Yes," she says with a weak and teary voice, "But I did not know she's pregnant."

There's anger building up in me. "How could you keep such a thing from me?" I pull away from her, and as soon as I do it, I regret it, because there's pain in her eyes.

"It was not my secret to tell," she says calmly, looking me right in the eyes, pain in hers still present.

"I can't believe this," I say, still not able to progress everything that has happened, and everything I have heard in this short amount of time.

The look in Elena's eyes shifts. "I was not aware these differences bother you so much," she says somewhat disappointed.

I look at her, ashamed, but also offended she would think I'm in disbelief because of the differences between my brother and Bonnie. "I do not care about social norms, Elena," I say louder than I intended to. Louder than I wanted. "I care about my brother. I care about the fact he was banished out of his own home because of a mistake," I throw my hands into the air.

"A mistake?" Elena asks, a little bit angry.

I take a deep breath before my next answer. "You can't seriously believe he did this out of any other reason but to spite our father."

She shakes her head, angry and disappointed with me. "Yes, I can," she starts walking towards the stairwell, "The sad thing is that you can't," she says before she walks away from me.

**ELENA'S POV**

We're sitting by the table in the dining room. Mr. Salvatore is not here with us, he rarely eats lunch with us anymore. He spends a lot of time away from the house in general. But Ms. Pierce and her mother joined us for lunch today, so it's not just Stefan and me anymore, sitting and eating in awkward silence.

It's been few days since Damon and Bonnie left the mansion, and we still know nothing about their whereabouts. One night, Damon came to pick up his things, but no one saw him getting in or out of the house. In the morning, one of the maids had noticed his room is empty.

I haven't talked to Stefan since the day Damon left the house. I'm not mad anymore, and at this point, I do not know why was I mad at the first place. My anger towards him is irrational, and I do not understand myself what came over me. I know Stefan is not the type to care about social differences and he does not care about the opinions of others and he knows what majority considers is right is not necessarily right. I know all these things, and I know he's worried about his brother, but at the same time, this irrational fear and anger came over me, and I can't really explain it.

But I'm never the one who makes apologies, my pride does not let me. Bonnie used to say that one day my pride will cost me something valuable.

"Poor Mr. Salvatore," Mrs. Pierce yelps as she takes a big bite of mashed potatoes from her fork, "To have his son do such a disgraceful thing," she shakes her head, and I can see Stefan rolling his eyes. I want to laugh, but I'm not supposed to, out of several reasons. "But," suddenly her tone of voice changes, and she sounds happier than she did only a moment before, "At least he still has you," she refers to Stefan, "And he knows you would never disappoint him."

Stefan looks like he's going to explode, and both me and Katherine can see it. Damon is a sensitive subject for him, and he does not like other badmouthing him.

"My brother made a mistake," Stefan says seriously, eyeing Mrs. Pierce, "But he's not a disgrace to anyone," he says, even though he knows his father considers Damon a disgrace, so I think he's referring to himself more than to anyone else, "He's a victim in all of this more than my father is," Stefan spits out the word father with a little bit of disgust.

"He is responsible for his actions," Mrs. Pierce replies.

"Yes, he is," Stefan agrees, "And he's taking responsibility for them. Many men would avoid it, some would not even recognize the child as theirs," and as Stefan says so, I remember Mr. Salvatore's words.

"Poor Bonnie, though," Katherine speaks out loud, and surprises me with her words, "Her life is ruined as well," she looks at her mother.

Mrs. Pierce looks at her daughter and furrows her brows. "Sweetie," she speaks to Katherine, "Bonnie made the biggest mistake a young woman can make."

"Oh yes," I finally voice my opinion, "She really did," I can feel Stefan's look on me, so I raise my head to look at him, "She fell in love," I say as my eyes lock on Stefan's.

Love is a wonderful thing. But it can also destroy you like nothing else in the world.

I pick up a napkin from the table and brush it against my mouth before putting it back beside my plate. "Now, if you would excuse me," I say as I stand up from the chair, and as I walk away from the dining room, I can feel Stefan's eyes on me.

**KATHERINE'S POV**

I sit on a chair on a front porch of the Salvatore mansion.

The sunset is beautiful. I wish I had someone to share this moment with.

A tear rolls down my cheek and I catch it with the crimson napkin in my hand.

"Do not cry, Katherine," I say to myself through a light laugh. Is this what I have come to? Crying over a man who got another woman pregnant? A man who would rather be with a maid of another race than with me?

How come I still consider him my first choice when I'm not even an option for him?

There should be a rule, nature's law or something, that forbids you to love someone if they're not going to love you back. That would make everything so much easier.

But I guess that's the thing. Love is not supposed to be easy, and neither is life. And at one point you realize your mother lied to you - you're not a princess and life is not going to hand you over everything you want. Even if you are a princess, that doesn't mean you are getting your happy ending.

Some women live in towers too high for any man to reach.

"Katherine?" I hear a well known voice saying my name. I turn my head around and see Stefan standing next to me. I haven't even heard him when he got out of the house.

"Stefan," I say as I try to clean every trace of tears from my face.

"You're crying," he states as he sits down next to me.

"No, no," I try to convince him otherwise as I clean my face from tears and try to hide my napkin from him, but before I'm able to do so, he puts his hand on mine.

"Katherine," he says my name so gently, "It's okay," he smiles at me lightly, and as his eyes lock with mine, I have a feeling he understands me. For the first time in a long while, I have a feeling finally someone knows what's going on in my head. I have a feeling he can read every one of my thoughts.

He squeezes my hand with his, and tears start rolling down my cheeks, all over again.

"It was always Damon," I say, finally admitting it out loud. Damon is the only man I have ever loved, and to me, it seems like he will be the only man I will ever love. "There was no one but Damon," I look him into the eyes.

He smiles at me lightly, but still squeezing my hand, "I know," he says.

I look at him in shock. "You do?", and he nods, "How?"

He chuckles. "Katherine, did you ever think you're not as good of an actress as you think you are?" he takes my crimson napkin out of my hand and wipes away my tears. He smiles at my stunned face.

"Neither are you," I say to him, letting him know I'm aware of his love for Elena.

But he does not react to my words, at least not in a way I had expected him to.

"I do not think anyone is able to hide their love for someone, no matter how hard they try," he says as he puts my napkin back into my hand, "When you truly love someone, you love them with your whole being," he says, and I know what he's talking about, "And you show it in ways you are not even aware you are capable of showing emotion."

We look at each other for a moment, before he speaks again. "I'm sorry Damon does not feel the same way you feel for him, but Katherine, you're an amazing woman," he squeezes my hand one more time.

I shake my head. "No, I'm self centered, spoiled brat who lived under the illusion she can have everything she wants without deserving it," I hiss out, my tone full of self hatred. Maybe if I acted differently, Damon would have loved me.

He shakes his head. "Love is not about deserving someone, or something," he looks at me, "It's about trying your best, and honestly, sometimes you fail. Your mistakes do not make you less worthy of love, especially not if you're ready to redeem for them. Loving someone includes loving them even when they're at their worst, when they deserve it the least," he smiles at me encouragingly.

I take a deep breath as I look into his eyes. "When did you get so smart?" I rub my cheeks with the palm of my hand.

He smiles at me with that signature smile of his before he says, "Love changes you."

**STEFAN'S POV**

I knock at the door of her room, and after I hear the words 'come in', I push the door open and step into the room. I close the door behind myself.

She closes the book in her hands and puts it on the small table beside the chair she's sitting in. She looks at me, and even behind all the anger and pain and disappointment in her eyes, I can see the way she used to look at me before I got her angry at me. Look full of love and happiness. I can see the way her eyes sparkle, like during the day all of the stars hide inside of her eyes.

"She loves him?" I ask. Ever since she said Bonnie fell in love with Damon today at lunch, her words have been running over my brain. Stomping on it, crushing it, inducing various thoughts I would rather not have.

Elena nods knowingly. "She's in love with him," she says calmly, with a little bit of warmth in her voice.

"And my brother? Is he in love with her also?" I ask, this time hoping her answer would be yes.

I was so convinced Damon did all of this only to spite our father. I'm so used to him doing wrong things only so he would get our father angry. I would give everything to hear otherwise. I would give everything for him to fall in love, to hear what I've thought is the wrong thing, is actually the right thing.

"If he weren't, do you really think he would stand up for her like he did, when your father offered him a way out?" Elena asks me, and all of a sudden a feel like a fool. I feel ashamed, because I was so quick to throw away the possibility of my brother actually loving someone.

I walk over to Elena, and fall on my knees next to the chair she's sitting on. I take her hand into mind, and caress the top of it with my fingers. "I do not know what wrong I have done, but can you please forgive me?" I beg, since I'm not able to stand one more second of Elena being angry with me.

The look in her eyes softens as she looks down at me. "Can you forgive me?" she asks me gently, "My anger towards you is not based on anything rational, I came to conclude," she says as she shakes her head, "But I was too stubborn to admit it," she exhales a hot stream of air.

"Stefan?" she says my name after few moments of silence.

"Yes?"

"If I were in Bonnie's situation," she asks, tearing her look away from me, "Would you stand by me?"

I do not know why did she even felt the need to ask me that question, but I decide to indulge her.

"Elena," I squeeze her hand harder, "I would stand by you no matter what," I tell her with a smile on my face.

She smiles back at me before her lips fall on mine, and as I feel her skin pressing next to mine, I know I'm home.


	16. Chapter 16

**DAMON'S POV**

To hell with my father. To hell with everyone in this town. To hell with this society and this world. To hell with the stupidity and irrationality of people.

To hell with this life if these are my choices. If these are the rules I have to live by.

To say I only need Bonnie would be an overstatement, because I really do need my brother. Without him, I would be lost in this.

This is a first time in a long while that I feel fear. I'm scared, and at times, I'm even close to panic. Because it's not just me anymore. I'm not only responsible for my own life, but for not one, but two more lives. One life created so mine could be complete, and the other I have helped in creating.

I can't afford any more mistakes, because every move I make from now on affects not only my life, but lives of others. And until now, I haven't cared about the consequences, but now, I feel like I have no other choice but consider everything before I even take action.

And this responsibility scares me, because I'm afraid I will mess up somehow. I feel like everyone are expecting me to mess up.

Thankfully, I have my brother here to help me. If it weren't for him, me and Bonnie would be out on the streets now. He remembered our old cabin in the beginning of the woods on the other side of the quarry. No one goes there anymore. Well, no one did since mother died. Out of us two, my brother has always been the more rational one, even with his head stuck in the clouds.

The cabin is a little too small, but it will do for now. Until I find a job and save us some money to move into a bigger apartment. I feel like I should do this before the baby is born because I think the cabin would be too cold for a baby. It has two rooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom, so it will do for now, for as long as me and Bonnie are alone. Bonnie does not seem to complain, though, she only keeps repeating how happy she is that I'm here with her. And all I can think about is what kind of a man would leave a woman in her situation alone?

The impossible has happened - I have fallen in love.

Love has never been my virtue, and neither has been responsibility. Those have always been characteristics of my brother, who believed in Shakespearean kind of love. He found beauty in tragedy and the other way around, and for me, everything has been a thin blue line. There were on curving's or bumps, but a simple thin line.

I never thought I will fall in love, or that someone would love me back. I never believed those things were meant for me. Love, family, children. It is not that I never wanted them, I simply never thought I will get them, so after some time I have stopped wishing for them because expecting them but in the same time thinking I do not deserve them was too confusing.

Everything changed in a matter of few months. Bonnie came into my life unexpectedly and everything changed. Everything is different.

And when I look at her, I'm not scared anymore. Every ounce of fear disappears, and I feel like I can do everything. She makes me think I can handle everything. I put my arms around her, and it's only the two of us, alone in the world.

And then, my hands travel down her body and fall on her stomach, and I can feel the small baby bump. Which is when the harsh reality hits me. We're not alone, not anymore. And we're never going to be alone again.

And I think I'm fine with that.

**STEFAN'S POV**

I'm holding Elena by her hand and dragging her through a storm. The rain is pouring down heavily on us, and I'm trying to get us home as fast as I can, because I'm afraid Elena will get ill again. And if she got ill again so fast, I do not think she would survive this time. Doctor says her immune system is too weak for often and sudden changes in climate.

So I'm dragging my beautiful lady down the muddy lane, our shoes and the bottom of her dress is stained, and she's asking me to slow down but I'm determined to get her inside as fast as I can. She's not getting ill again, not if it's in my power to prevent it from happening.

We finally reach the house and I can hear her exhale in relief behind me. We drag mud all over the porch stairs and take our shoes off before we step inside so we wouldn't stain the floors. I push the front door and it flies wide open and I step aside so she can enter the house first. She takes her dress in between her fingertips and lifts it up so she wouldn't stain the floors with its muddy bottom.

We have been on the other side of the quarry to visit Damon and Bonnie. We brought them a warm dinner Jenna made for them, groceries, and some money I have managed to give my brother discretely. Elena was asking Bonnie a lot of questions, some to which Bonnie had no answer to, but Elena would not give up. She is too curious for her own good.

Bonnie is getting quite big this early in her pregnancy. Must be because of her petite figure. She is not thicker than Elena, and she's way shorter than Elena is. Damon has a hard time finding a job, so I think they will have to stay in the cabin longer than he would like.

It's dark in the house. There's not even one candle lit so I assume everyone went to bed already. I wonder has father come home yet, since he left three days ago and said he doesn't know when he will be back. Me and Elena are climbing upstairs in utter silence. When we finally reach the second floor, she hurries towards the door of her bedroom and cracks them open. I follow her, and as I prepare myself to give her a goodnight kiss on the cheek and wish her sweet dreams, she throws her arms around my neck and her lips meet mine. She surprises me a little, but as soon as I feel her tongue on my lips, everything else disappears and I give myself over to her completely. Her fingers travel over the nape of my neck, her fingertips are so soft on my skin. They feel like they're made out of jello, and they turn my skin into the same mass. I can feel her step back, and she pulls me with her. She makes another step, then another, then another, and so on. The next thing I know we're inside of her bedroom, and I can feel one of her hands slipping from my neck, and seconds later I hear the door of her bedroom closing with a mid loud shut.

I pull my lips away from hers and look into her somewhat disappointed eyes. I hate making her unhappy, so I quickly give her another peck before I say, "It's getting late. I should go," I want to turn around and leave but she holds me still with her look.

"But," the corners of her lips, which were curved into a smile, turn upside down, "If you leave, who will keep me warm?" she asks me as a devilish grin appears on her face, and I can see she's up to something. She crosses her arms and starts rubbing them up and down with her hands as she frowns and says, "I'm cold."

"Elena," I say her name gently, and inside of my mouth her name tastes like candy, "You should get out of that wet clothes," I furrow my brows as I notice her dress sticking close to her skin, and drops of rain falling down her arms, "You will get ill again," I warn her.

I also notice some things I would rather not. Like her swan like neck which is shimmering under the moonlight, covered in water. It seems so slippery, and I have a strong urge to run my tongue down her neck. I notice her collar bones, and how perfectly they stick out of her body. And finally, I notice her bosom. She's breathing heavily, probably still tired from the running, and her chest is lifting up and down rapidly. The top of her dress is glued to her skin.

I swallow hard as I mentally slap myself for thinking about certain parts of her body.

Before I know it, she is taking my hands into hers and intertwining our fingers. I look into her shimmering eyes and she caresses me with her warm look as her whole being glows before she presses her soft lips against mine and leads me across the room, towards her bed. My knees are weak as they bump into the edge of the bed, and she lightly pushes me down on it. I sit down on the edge of it, taking so little space I almost slide down, and look up at her. She's standing only step or two away from me, and when I meet her look, there's no more devilish grin on her face.

There's fear in her eyes. Not fear in form of despair, or desperation, it's not that type of fear. She's not scared of being hurt, she's not making an escape plan. Her eyes do not hold the fear of helpless human who is trapped, she looks like a woman who's a victim of her own mind. She's struggling with the desire of doing something, and the fear of repercussions those actions might have.

Her mind is placed somewhere between want and need and fear. I stayed quiet, since it was the only thing I could really do. I kept gazing her, and with time, her look was getting more and more determined, until there was no more fear there. Honestly, sudden complete lack of it scared me a little.

She took a step back and put her hands on her back. "Stefan?" she said my name in form of a question.

I could not gather enough strength to answer her. I was not even sure am I supposed do.

"Have you ever made love to a woman?" she is doing something with her hands behind her back, but I can't see what. Confusion washes over me, and I feel like fear is visible in my eyes now. She giggles a little as she turns her look away from mine. "Such a silly question," she shakes her head, "Of course you haven't," she clears her throat. She's obviously as nervous as I'm confused. "Do you know anything about making love?" she asks as she removes her hands from her back, and I can see her dress getting lose.

"Yes," I say truthfully, looking her back in the eyes. I've read a lot about making love, actually. I've read about women who made love without actually being in love, and I've read about women who made love while they loved another with their whole being. I've read about passion, and lust, and how it feels, how it's supposed to feel, and how people believe it's supposed to feel and how sometimes they turn out to be wrong.

She puts one of her fingers under the short sleeve of her dress and pulls it down her arm. My eyes pop wide open and my look falls on her bare shoulder.

"Have you ever thought about making love?" she asks with a shaky voice as she does the same to her other sleeve as she did to the first one.

Of course I have. Who hasn't? It's a natural part of growing up, especially for someone like me, who reads a lot and is introduced to certain things sooner than other people. Those things often left me with confusion, but also with a great deal of curiosity.

"Have you thought," she pushes the top of her dress down her body, and with it, the skirt falls too, "About making love," she steps out of her dress, and she's left in nothing but her corset and petticoat, "With me?" her look locks on mine as she asks me that question.

I feel like both of us swallow at the same time. How am I supposed to answer this question? Yes, I have thought about being with her that way. Just as I have thought about marrying her and having children with her. I know this is different, because there were times when I have pictured it vividly. So vividly that I'm ashamed to admit it. I imagined how her skin would taste like, and how her bare body would feel, while pressing next to mine. I have tried to imagine her harsh exhales and inhales, as well as what would she say to me at the time. I even tried to compare the smell of her skin to something my nostrils have already experienced.

Saying I have thought about making love to her would be an understatement, because that has become part of my daily thoughts since the day I've realized I'm in love with her. I guess it is normal, after all, that when you love someone, you want to show that love in every single way possible.

I can't find any words to say all of this, though. My throat is dry and I'm shaking, partially from coldness, partially from nervousness. My look is still locked on hers, and she's holding me, taking away from me every option of escape.

"Because I have," she says honestly, stepping closer to me. She lowers herself down, and now my eyes are locked on her bosom. She puts her fingers around the top button of my beige, button up shirt, and sets it free. She keeps undoing all of them with easiness. "I have thought about us making love right in this bed," she says as she undoes the last button of my shirt. She pulls the shirt off my shoulders, and I let her. Now, her look is locked on my chest, and I'm thankful I have got rid of that wet shirt from my body. She puts her hands on my chest and trails her fingers down my body to my stomach, before she presses her lips onto my skin, and I exhale in pleasure. She keeps planting light and quick pecks all over my chest, and when she finally raises her head from my chest she whispers, "Not a very lady like thing to do," a faint smile appears on her face.

She sits on the bed next to me and turns her back to me. "Could you please help me with this?" she points to the strings of her corset. I look down at the piece of clothing that is preventing me from seeing her fully naked, and I think really hard am I ready to do this. Am I ready to take this step? Every fiber of my being is screaming yes. I love her. Of that I'm sure. I love her now, always have and always will. She's been part of me for as long as I'm on this planet. And I want to show her that love through every possible way known to mankind. But, what if something goes wrong?

"Elena," I say her name carefully, like she's going to shatter into pieces if I raise my voice. She turns her head to me, and once again, her eyes are full of fear. But this time, fear of rejection. "What if," I swallow hard, "What if you get pregnant?" I ask with a shaky voice. Honestly, I do not care about myself. I do not care about what would people say, and I know we would manage. But, I do care about her. I want her to have the best life possible. I want her to live the life she deserves, life she wants. I do not want to put her in a situation Bonnie is now, the situation her aunt was in so many years ago.

She smiles at me gently and puts her palm on my cheek. "You're too good for this world, Stefan," she whispers to me before she brings her lips close to my ear and says, "But I'm a woman, I know how to take care of myself," she gives me a peck on the cheek before she turns her whole body around.

I exhale loudly and close my eyes. The next thing I know my fingers are working the strings of her corset. There are so many of them, and we sit in complete silence and I can feel her corset getting lose under my fingers as I pull the strings. We can only hear the hum of the night. The rain had stopped, and I can imagine that after rain smell air has. I can feel hunger for her building up inside of me. I watch my fingers pulling the last string of her corset. She catches it from the front, and seconds later she lets it fall from her hands on the floor. I can see her raise her hands towards her chest to cover her bosom with the palms of her hands.

I put my hands on both sides of her shoulders. I lower my lips on them, and kiss her skin. It's still wet from the rain, and her skin is slippery under my lips. I take one of my hands off her shoulder and follow the line of her spine with my finger, before I do the same with my lips. I can feel her jump a little every time my lips fall on her skin. Her breathing becomes heavier, and as my lips fall on the top above her bottom, where her petticoat ends, she releases a silent moan. I bring my lips up to her neck and kiss it. As I breathe on the nape of her neck I can feel goosebumps appearing on her skin.

"Elena," I hum her name like the sweetest melody known to men, "I love you," those three words roll down my lips, and in this moment I feel more naked than she probably does. I swallow hard as I feel her shoulders stiff under my palms.

"You do not have to say it just because - " she says silently, but I interrupt her before she has a chance to finish her sentence.

"I'm not saying it because I have to, I'm saying it because I want to. If I'm going to make love to you, you should know that I love you," I respond, and I can feel her body relax again. "I do not think you know how much you mean to me, Elena. Even if you do, I feel like I should say it out loud. You mean everything to me. You're my whole world. I can't even seem to remember how I lived my days before you came into my life. It's like you have instilled yourself in my lungs, because you have the power to take away every breath of air I take. I see you everywhere, I smell you everywhere, I feel you everywhere. I feel you inside of me, like you have always been there, but I haven't been aware of your existence until you showed up personally. You're not only the woman I love, you're part of me, part of my soul, part of my essence. You're a character from my favorite book, you're the air I breathe, you're every thought I have.. You're my everything," I kiss the skin of her right shoulder, before she turns around.

There are tears in her eyes, her hair is falling over her face, gluing itself to her tears, she's still holding her arms over her chest, and all I can think about is how I have never seen her more beautiful than she is now.

"If I tell you a secret, will you promise not to tell anyone?" she asks me in a teary voice and I swear I will keep her secret. The corners of her lips curve into a smile. "I love you, too," and as she says those words, I swear, I feel like my heart is going to pound out of my chest. She locks her glossy eyes on mine, "Now you take that secret and keep it to yourself, because in silence, people are able to steal even your whisper," she removes her arms from her chest and throws them around my neck. She presses herself next to me, and I can feel her bosom on my chest as she kisses my lips.

"Stefan?" she detaches her lips from mine only a little, I can feel the hotness of her breath as she speaks.

"Yes?"

"Will you make love to me now, please?"

I smile as I press my lips next to hers.

**ELENA'S POV**

Mother had taught me a long time ago how to be intimate with a man, but avoid pregnancy. It's like even she knew my curiosity will get the best of me, and I will not be able to wait until I'm married.

As I kiss Stefan's lips, I can feel him working on the bow of my petticoat. After few tries he unties the bow, and my petticoat loses its grip on my body. My bosom is pressing next to Stefan chest, and I must say I'm surprised how solid his chest is. I press myself closer to him so his skin would get more familiar with mine. I barely detach my hungry lips from his, and stand up. He watches me in amazement. First, he watches the petticoat fall from my body, leaving me only in my bloomers. His look travels to my bosom, and it stays there for a long while, before it travels to my face and his eyes lock on mine. A smirk appears on his face as he puts his hands on my hips as pulls me closer to him. He falls on the bed and I fall on top of him, laughing. He rolls me over and puts a finger over my lips, telling me to be quiet so we do not wake anyone up. His lips fall on my bosom and he keeps kissing my chest while fondling my hips with his palms.

I help him unbutton his pants, and when he pulls them down his pants, alongside his underwear, I get rid of my bloomers and crawl under the sheets. He gets on top of me and kisses my neck, making me moan in excitement. I'm so close to exploding. Curiosity and want and need are mixing together and building up inside of me.

He raises his head, and I can see his glassy eyes in the dark. His wheat brown hair is falling over his forehead, the points of his strains connecting with his long eyelashes, and he asks me, "Are you sure?"

I exhale loudly, and I must admit I'm a little scared, but I guess I would be scared in every situation, and no matter how old I am.

"More then I've ever been sure in anything in my entire life," I reply as I bite my lower lip.

He nods at me. Seconds later, I can feel sharp pain. I wrap my fingers around his wrists and grip on him tightly. I bite my lip harder, if I bite it any harder I'll feel blood in my mouth. My legs are cramping. The pain is increasing, and I can feel pressure. His eyes are locked on mine, pain visible on my face, pain visible on his face because he's the one inflicting me pain.

He is so concerned for me, so gentle, so slow, that for a moment, when I look into his eyes, all of the pain disappears.

And it keeps disappearing until there isn't any left.

"Are you okay?" he asks me worried, and I try to smile. I can feel a faint smile appearing on my face as I nod.

I feel extremely uncomfortable. Is it supposed to feel like this? Pain comes back from time to time, and my body temperature changes a lot.

He lowers his head and presses his lips next to mine, and kisses me like he has never kissed me before. Not better, not worse, simply different. He kisses me with so much passion that he sucks all the air out of my lungs, but the funny thing is, I do not want him to detach his lips from mine. Even if I run out of air, I do not want him to part his lips from mine.

But he does, and he leaves me feeling empty. I put my hand on the back of his neck and pull his head down, kissing him like he had kissed me a moment before.

And when the kiss ends, I do not feel uncomfortable anymore. I do not feel that unpleasant pressure, and my skin is nothing but boiling hot. I feel better than I've felt in my entire life, and I do not want him to stop doing what he's doing now. I never want him to stop.

He slows his pace down and lifts his hand up to remove the strain of hair that is falling over my forehead. Out of some reason, that made me feel really safe.

He plants his kisses all over my body. His lips keep leaving a mark on my skin. He squeezes my curves from time to time, in moment of passion.

"'Lena," he mumbles my name, "You're so beautiful," he tells me, and I wish my brain was able to come up with a decent thing to say at the moment.

A hot stream of air coming out of my mouth hits his neck as I smile.

"Stefan, please," I beg him, unsure of what I'm begging him for, but he does not seem to mind.

I feel electric energy inside of my body gluing me next to him, pushing me on to him, making me hot from the inside. Making me fall into such a comfortable trans.

And that feeling is followed by an earth shattering experience. My muscles become stiff, and I wrap my legs around Stefan's waist. My whole body is shaking, my legs are cramping again, but this time in a good way. There's an eruption inside of my body.

Moments after I experience that, I can feel Stefan becoming stiff on top of me, before he falls on the bed next to me.

Both of us are breathing heavily, exhausted, after this new experience. But that does not stop me from climbing on top of him and pressing my body next to his, teasing him with my kisses.

"Did you feel that too?" I ask.

He chuckles. "What exactly?"

"That energy. Hot stream of air or a rushing river inside of your body," I try to describe the incredible feeling before I have experienced my peak. But he simply smiles at my knowingly. "What was that?" I ask curiously.

He gives me a peck on the lips before he responds happily, "Your soul."

I raise my eyebrow at him. "Oh yeah? Well, it was trying to attack yours."

* * *

**AN: So, after 15 long chapters, I've decided it's time for them to take this step. Hope you were not disappointed!**


	17. Chapter 17

**ELENA'S POV**

"Elena," I can hear him whisper my name as I continuously keep planting small and delicate kisses on his chest. My name rolls down his tongue like a mix of warning, pleading and pleasure.

I'm lying on top of him, my eyes are closed, but I'm not sleeping, I'm very well aware of everything that is happening. Resting on top of Stefan is sort of my guilty pleasure, and when it comes to it, I can be a little bit selfish. I forget to ask him does he mind, or am I too heavy to hold like that, and when his muscles become stiff, I decide to ignore them. Like I'm ignoring him calling out my name right now.

I feel safe on top of him. Like nothing can hurt me, or him. I feel like nothing and no one else but us exists. Like the whole world consists of this one bed, and we're the only people on it.

He calls my name one more time, and a smile appears on my face. I turn my head around, with my eyes still closed, and nuzzle my nose against his chest. My hands instantly fly over to his chest, and I start drawing circles on his skin with the tips of my fingers. I hum quietly as I enjoy this moment of pure perfection.

"Elena, darling," he puts his hands on my back and starts playing with my hair, slowly and lovingly, "I really should go back. The dawn is coming," I can feel my hair going through his fingers like it's made out of silk, and the though of parting with him makes me incredibly sad.

Since the first night we have spent together, we spent almost every following night together. When he was sure everyone went to sleep, he would sneak out of his room and come into mine. We would not make love every night, sometimes we would sleep in each others arms. He would put his arms around me and pull me closer to him, and I would attach my body next to his the best I could. Honestly, I would do more sleeping, because he is too afraid to fall asleep out of fear someone might catch us. As much as I loved the nights during which he would quietly hold me, nights when we were making love were my favorite, because someone loving me in such a way really made me feel special. And the first night I have decided no one could love me better in that way than Stefan, nor could I love anyone more or better. And when the dawn comes, he lets me go and goes back to his room, and few hours later we meet for breakfast.

Sometimes, the reasons I do not want him to leave are quite selfish. Because once he does leave, I cannot seem to fall asleep again. I simply lie there until it's time to wake up. I can see this becoming a problem, because what if I'm never able to fall asleep without him by my side again? What if one day I won't have him next to me?

I keep wondering, can he fall asleep without me by his side, or does he keep fighting reality until the sun comes up as well?

I moan loudly. "Do you really have to?" I ask with a tired voice. "Can't you stay for a little while longer?" my pleading voice turns into a whining sound.

No one seems to know what has been going on between me and Stefan, but then again, everyone are pretty much still shaken up because of Damon and Bonnie. The other day Caroline told me I seem lighter to her, that my smile is brighter and my eyes shinier. I wonder has Stefan told her about us, even though I doubt so. He would have warned me if he had. Maybe I seem like that to Caroline because I'm that much happier than I was before. This new experience has done wonders to me.

I simply feel more happier, and I don't believe there's another way to explain it. Stefan makes me happy, and the things he does to me make me happy, and I feel like there's nothing missing.

He kisses the top of my head and sends pleasurable waves down my whole body. "I'm afraid not," he says, but he doesn't move.

And neither do I. This has become a routine for us. And with each morning it gets harder and harder to part. I just want to fall asleep next to him, and wake up next to him. Is that too much to ask for?

"I hate this part," I huff.

My naked body is pressing next to his. I was so afraid he will see all of my imperfections like my scarred knee, and the little damp on my left hip, and the painful red lines on my back that appear as a result of wearing a corset. I was afraid until he had finally seen them and kissed them and told me imperfections make perfection and that even the smallest scar on my body proves that I'm alive. That I'm human and that I live well enough to earn a scar in the first place.

"Which one would that be?" he asks.

My body falls perfectly into his. For every one of my curves there's a damp in his body for my curve to fit, and it goes the other way around. Makes me think our bodies were made to fit perfectly together.

I raise my head up and our eyes meet, and for a moment, I swear, I can see my reflection in his eyes perfectly, and I can see myself the way he sees me.

"The part where you leave," I say as I roll myself off him, because I know he will have to leave sooner or later. So I leave him first.

**STEFAN'S POV**

"Ms. Gilbert," I hear father's voice coming out of his study as me and Elena come down the stairs for breakfast, "Can you come in here for a second?" he calls for her, and his voice is a little bit nervous. Shaky, even.

Elena looks at me worriedly before grabbing my hand and leading me with her towards my fathers study. We enter and his look falls on us, or better to say on our joined hands, and I feel like pulling my hand away because of the intensity of his look, but I can't seem to force myself to do it. She holds on me too hard, which only makes me want to keep holding her hand, because I know she needs me that much more.

Father composes his posture after few moments of staring at our joined hands and looks back at Elena. "There's a matter I have to discuss with you," he glances at me, barely noticeable, before he looks at Elena significantly, "Maybe it would be better if we did it in private," he raises his eyebrow.

Elena looks up at me with her big, shimmering eyes before her look hardens as she looks back at my father and says, "No, it's okay." I exhale in relief.

Father looks a little bit stunned, and after he takes a loud and tired sigh, he says, "Very well," he nods his head and sits on the chair behind his writing desk, "Yesterday, I have received a letter from Mr. Donovan."

The name does not sound familiar to me, but at the sound of it, Elena grips tighter to my hand, and her eyes pop out. She pulls herself closer to me and my skin starts to sting as she rails the tips of her fingers in my arm. I can hear her gulp, and swallow loudly, all while looking at my father. I try to catch her look, but it is frozen on my father.

"By the look on your face," father says with sympathy, which surprises me, since he rarely shows sympathy towards anything or anyone, "I take it you know what the letter was about."

"Elena," I say her name worriedly as I feel her whole body shake as she keeps it pressed next to mine. I help her down on the sofa near which we're standing, and for a moment, I meet my fathers eyes which are washed with slight confusion. Probably because of the intimacy I have allowed myself in addressing Elena, and the weirdest thing is, I, not even for a moment, have thought about correcting myself. Not even in my father's presence.

"I have never met anyone from the Donovan family," Elena says with a shaky voice, voice that puts a knife right through my heart, "But I have heard of them. And I think I know why they contacted you," Elena looks at me, and her eyes are no longer shimmering. Now there are big black circles in her eyes, filled with fear, and a slight amount of anger. She's still shaking, and I can see goosebumps on her skin, even though the Summer is ending and it's still fairly warm. There's no pesky wind today, either. "They're not from Atlanta," Elena turns her head back to look at my father, "But my father knew them. At the time, they were in a tough situation concerning money. Father said he's afraid for me because I was not interested in men and getting married like other girls were," Elena's voice is getting tearier and shakier with every passing second, "So he gave my hand in marriage to Mr. Donovan's youngest son," Elena lowers her head down and her looks falls on her hands which are resting on her lap.

I feel like someone had reached into my chest, grabbed my heart with their bare hand, and pulled it out of my body, all in a second of time. Elena promised to another man? My Elena? The woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, have children with? The woman I will love as long as there's air in my lungs? The woman I need to feel happy and complete? Is that same woman promised to someone else?

I can hear my father inhale loudly, and exhale even louder. I can feel every bit of air going up his nostrils and coming out of his throat. I can feel Elena shaking even though I'm not holding on to her anymore. I can hear my own heart beating, thumping in my ears.

"I'm afraid so," father says.

"The only thing they wanted was our money, and that money is gone now," Elena says through her teeth.

"You still have your inheritance," father answers calmly. I'm surprised by his calmness in this situation.

"Which I can get an access to when I turn 18," Elena says excitedly. She looks at my father with that set of big, once again, shimmering eyes, and says, "They can have the money, if they need it. If they want it. If I give them the money, do I still have to get married?" she asks with a small glimmer of hope in her voice.

Hope awakens in me too.

Father closes his eyes and rubs his forehead with his fingers. I can see he's tense, and I can also see this is not an easy thing for him to do. "After I received the letter, I took the liberty of calling your parents lawyer," father says, his fingers still rubbing his forehead, "And actually," he prolongs that word for as long as he can, "You get access to you inheritance once you marry," he removes his hand from his head to look at us both.

I hear Elena's silent whimper. Her hand starts searching for mine, and once it finds it, she intertwines her fingers with mine. Her tears are not longer shimmering, they do not look like you can see a reflection of drizzle in them, they do not look glassy. They look like she's hiding despair in them. Her lips are shaking, her beautiful, subtle, red lips, she's pulling them inward now, scraping them with her front teeth. She's holding on her tears, and blowing her flushed cheeks. Her slightly wavy hair is glued to her hot skin. She looks like she's falling into a shock, and I cannot do anything to help her.

I hate this feeling. I hate being helpless. Especially when it comes to the people I love. I would gladly take all of her pain and make it mine.

"What if she's already married?" I ask without giving it a second thought. She shots her look at me, but I squeeze her hand with my fingers. Father looks at me confused, when I say, nervously, "He can't marry her if she's already married," I swallow hard.

Father is glaring at me, and Elena and me are glaring at him. He's confused at first, but when the finally understands my proposal, his face turns into a slight shock. I expect him to react aggressively. To tell me I'm insane, or out of line. But he doesn't. After few seconds the lines of his face soften, and he gets warmer.

This is not the reaction I have expected from him. I have expected him to react differently. Maybe he thinks losing one son is more than enough.

"Ms. Gilbert's parents had an arrangement with Mr. Donovan," father says while looking at us both, "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do."

* * *

**AN: Uhoh, problems?**


	18. Chapter 18

**ELENA'S POV**

I stroll out of Mr. Salvatore's study, and Stefan follows me. I was trying to forget that I'm promised to another man. Man I have never met, man that has never met me, a man from some far, far away place where I know no one, where everything is unfamiliar and new. Not so long ago that kind of an adventure seemed like a dream come true, but now, it resembles a nightmare. I wanted an adventure, a life worth living, experiences from which I will learn. I wanted to see things that would attack all of my senses with its beauty, I wanted to go through something about which I would be able to tell other people about. But what kind of a life is that, if you have no one to share it with?

I was a child. Silly, stupid, ignorant child. I'm not much older now, but I have experienced something many people do not experience during their whole lifetime. I have loved and someone had loved me in return, and when such a wonderful thing happens to you, you see things from a completely different perspective. When you experience love, all of the beauty of the world, all the adventures and excitement cannot even compare to a quiet night in their arms.

I was trying to forget the promise my father had made to that man, I was trying to pretend it never happened, and with time, I was able to convince myself in that. That it was some other life in question.

I had hoped they would forget it too. And it seemed they did.

Until now.

I guess it makes sense. Once you step behind the door of happiness, door of misery fly right open, and you're pushed into the room.

"Elena," I can hear Stefan's voice behind me, urging me to stop, to calm down, to wipe the tears off my face and replace my frown with a smile. My sweet Stefan. He's probably going to say everything will be okay, that we will find a way. Always an optimist. One day, that optimism will destroy him.

Sometimes it seems he's bigger of a child than I am.

He hurries up and catches my pace. He puts his hands on my shoulders, and I instantly stop walking. What is it about him that can make me feel completely relaxed, powerless, like I'm not in control over my own body? I do not want to feel like this, so dependent on someone. I do not want to live like this, loving someone so much I would give my last breath to them.

I turn around to face him, and my eyes meet his. Somehow, he's as scared as I am. His light green eyes are a reflection of fear. Sometimes I forget I'm not alone in this little tornado of ours, and what hurts me, hurts him too. It goes the other way around too, and I was never the one to endure much pain.

"It's so unfair," I finally say with a teary voice, "My parents are gone. They're dead. How can they make any decisions for me?" something cuts me from the inside as I say those words.

A new wave of sadness flashes in his eyes. "Elena.." he says my name like it's made out of glass as his grip on me tightens.

"They left me," I hiss at him, I'm aware he does not deserve it, but there's so much pain in my chest and I have to get it out. He's the closest one. He's the only one willing to take it. "They left me all alone, to deal with their decisions, decisions I do not want to make," I put my hands on top of his, and I can feel how stiff his body is.

He keeps staring at me, but he has no words for me. He looks like he does not know how to comfort me, not this time. He's standing helpless before me, as scared as I am, and I ask myself what are we doing here? We're just a couple of kids, neither of us has any idea what we're doing. We were so silly, hoping this could work out, believing this will last.

We're not meant to be, we're a cruel experiment of fate.

"They sold me," I say with a slight amount of disgust towards my father, who gave me to someone else. Sold me like I'm a piece of furniture. Like I have no say in how I want to live my life, who I love and who I want to marry. Who I want to spend the rest of my life with, have children with. Like I do not have a mind of my own to think with, or heart of my own to love with.

It makes me sick, this world, these people. How they control our lives, make decisions we're supposed to make. And when I think, one day, I will have children too, and it will be expected from me to control their lives like mine has been controlled. Maybe I will feel a need to. Maybe I will be so bitter about losing my choices that I will gladly take someone's else choice away. Even if my own child is in question. I always thought people are supposed to learn from their mistakes, and remember the pain of injustice that was inflicted on them, so when they see someone struggling in the same situation, they're able to help them, push them on the right path. But when people fall, they like to pull as many of people as they can with them.

Stefan puts his hand on my cheek, and I lean my head towards it so I can rest it against his palm. I feel so sleepy all of a sudden.

"Stefan," I say his name through a whimper, and his eyes light up as mine lock on them, "Please," my voice sounds too pleading for my own taste, "Don't let them take me away," a tear falls down my cheeks and I can feel it slowly rolling down my face.

He clears the tear from my face with his thumb before he says, "I promise, I won't let them take you anywhere," and the corners of his lips turn into a smile. I smile right back at him.

Silly boy, making promises both of us know he can't keep.

**STEFAN'S POV**

After I accompany Elena to her bedroom, since she said she's tired and wants to lie down, even though she only recently woke up, I rush towards my fathers study. I barge in without knocking, which is very unlike me, but father does not seem surprised at all. He looks like he has been expecting me to make an appearance.

"What do we do now?" I ask after I close the door of his study.

He looks at me from his chair as mumbles my name sympathetically.

"We can't just sit around and do nothing," I say as calm as possible.

"There's nothing else we can do," father crosses his arms on his chest.

I frown and make few steps forward, "There's always something to do," I put my hands on the top of his writing desk, "You just have to be willing to do it," I look him in the eyes as his look freezes on mine. I shake my head as I mumble into my beard, "You do not understand."

Both of us are quiet for a minute before he says my name through a painful, sharp whisper.

"I love her!" I say as fast as I can, getting it out of my system, and saying it out loud to someone other than her makes me feel relief. Makes me feel like a huge rock has been dropped off my chest, like I can finally breathe again. And I want to scream it again, and again, and again, until the whole world knows.

I look at my father who's looking at me with shock, until he furrows his brows and spits out, "Love?" his face turns ice cold, "You're a child. What do you know about love?" he hisses at me.

I exhale loudly. I know a lot about love, more than he would believe me. I know I do. Because love is something you do not learn from books, love is something you're born with. "I know a thing or two about love," I say, and I think he did not expect me to be this calm. I think he expected me to show my rough side, side I share with my brother. Or maybe he wanted to see a little bit of himself in me. "As it is one of my earliest memories," I tell him, and he looks at me confused. I keep quiet for few seconds before I speak again, "I was three years old, more or less, and all of us were taking a walk by the quarry," I smile at the distant memory, "I was trying to catch up with Damon, but my legs were a little too short, and he was so fast," this time I release a light laugh, "So I sat down on the grass, and looked in your direction. You and mother were walking towards me, you were telling her something, and she was laughing like there's nothing funnier in the world than your words. There was something in the way you looked at her," I look at my father who's looking at me, and the look in his eyes is making believe he's reliving the moment with me, "Like she's the most beautiful and precious thing on this planet. Like she's every breath you take. And when someone would mention love," the corners of my lips curve into a smile, "That look would flash before my eyes," I look back at my father who's now staring at one point on the wall. It takes him some time to look back at me. "I love her," I repeat again.

And that's all I have. That's all I can say. I have no more cards up in my sleeve.

Father exhales loudly as his eyes search mine. "I know," he says, "I have seen it in the way you look at her," father smiles softly with a kind of smile he hasn't used in years. "I see a lot of myself in you. The way you look at her," he sighs painfully, rubbing his temple with his fingertips, "Is the same way I looked at your mother. I - I should have stopped it when I had a chance," he says, all of a sudden anger possessing over him, "I should have never allowed it to go this far," he gets out of his chair, pushing it away from the table until it hits the wall behind him, "So you wouldn't be in this kind of a pain. So at least one of my sons is happy," he raises his voice, this time unintentionally I believe.

"Damon is happy," I say, defending my brother once again, "Maybe he's not happy with the woman you would choose for him, but he's happy on his own terms."

Father looks at me, his look full of shock and surprise, maybe even a little bit of confusion. He probably had no idea I know Damon's whereabouts.

"I had no heart to stop it from happening, and now it's your heart that will break," he says, ignoring my words about my brother.

I press my hands on the table, loudly, and raise my voice, "It doesn't have to! Do something!" I scream, "Let me marry her," I say with a pleading voice.

He shoots a blank look at me. "What about Ms. Pierce?"

I laugh out loud. "Father, are you really so blind, or do you only pretend to be?" I say, expecting him to react harshly to my words. Part of me can't believe these words actually came out of my mouth, but the other part of me is completely sure of them. Part of me that remembers that I was ready to promise Elena she's worth fighting for. I think the reason why he does not react harshly is because he's confused. Things are out of his control and he's lost. "Katherine never loved me, she never will," I tell him honestly, "The only man she ever loved was Damon," the shock is evident in his eyes, but I have no time for explanations. "By not marrying Katherine, I would be doing her a favor," I say truthfully. No one would force her to spend her life married to a man who is always going to be in love with someone else. And no one would force me to marry a woman who is going to spend her life in love with the thought of my brother.

There's an awkward silence since neither of us has anything to say anymore, and some time passes before he finally opens his mouth to speak. "I will see what can be done."

* * *

Elena spent the whole day in her room, Jenna said she's not feeling very well. Poor her, everything that happened in the morning probably got to her, so she started feeling faint. I hope she knows I'm doing everything in my power to make things better. To handle this situation the best way I can and know how.

I went to sleep fairly early, I must admit everything that happened tired me too. I fell asleep as soon as I felt soft sheets under me, and I slept the whole night through. The following morning I woke up, got dressed up and got out in the hallway. I waited for Elena on our usual spot, next to the stairwell, but she did not come out of her room. I found it odd since she's usually very punctual. I knocked on the door of her room, but there was no answer, so I found enough liberty to open them for myself. She was not in her room. I started panicking, until I realized she hasn't eaten anything the day before. She was probably starving so she could not wait for me to wake up to have breakfast.

I went downstairs, and I bumped into father as he was leaving his study.

"Have you seen Elena?" I ask him, at this point, feeling no need to hide our intimacy by calling her Ms. Gilbert.

"Stefan," father says my name like I've startled him, like he did not expect to see me there. His face gets pale all of a sudden, and he puts his hand on my arm. My father hasn't made physical contact with me since I was a child. Unless you count occasional beating. "We have to talk," he swallows.

We have to talk. Those words keep buzzing in my ears. We have to talk. Worst words one person can say to another, especially in such delicate times. I keep staring at father's face which keeps getting paler and paler every time I blink. My eyes widen, and I try not to panic. I try not to lose my mind right there.

"Where is she?" I ask, but fathers grip on my arm tightens. I pull myself away from him. "Where is she?" this time I scream, which seems to wake father up from some sort of a trans he had found himself in.

"Son, I'm so sorry," he says with a teary voice, and even though pain and regret and pity are evident in his eyes, somehow I can't force myself to believe him. "They came late at night," he swallows, "I was just getting ready to go to bed.."

"No," I say, refusing to face the reality of his words.

"They came to take her. And we have no legal rights to keep her here," he says, trying to reach to me, trying to calm me down, "She's not ours, Stefan," he says.

"She's mine!" I scream so hard my voice breaks, "Why did you not wake me up?" I ask at the same time the first tears falls down my cheeks. I can feel the saltiness of it burning my skin.

I want to scream but there's no more voice left in my throat.

"It would only be harder for you," father says, "And for her."

I look at him in the same way Damon used to, and by the look on his face I can tell he recognizes the look on my face. Complete and utter disappointment, even slight disgust, disrespect. But I find no words, I find no courage and no strength to say the words that do come to my mind, so I only keep looking at him for a short while before I turn around and go upstairs. I can hear him yelling my name, but it does not good.

I open the door of her room, and angrily I barge inside. My face is soaked with tears by now, and I have no intention of hiding them. There would be no use anyway. One stream would be replaced by another, and at the moment, I feel like these tears have no end. I open her wardrobe, and there's no clothes in it. I look over at her vanity table and all of her things are gone. There are no books on the little table by the armchair.

There is no Elena.

There is no air.

The room is spinning. I sit down on her bed, and my look falls on the floor. I notice a piece of cotton next to the bed. I pick it up with my fingers.

Floral napkin.

I guess it's poetic justice.

I squeeze it with my fingers.

I leave her room because everything still smells like her and I feel if I stay there any longer I'll jump out of the window.

I go downstairs, pass my father, crying Jenna and few other maids and sit on the stairs of the porch.

The wood is cold. The morning is chilly overall. The wind smells.. ordinary. Everything seems ordinary, like there's no beauty to the day. All of a sudden I remember how I spent my days before she came into my life. Ordinary.

I squeeze my hand like I'm trying to imprint the pattern of the napkin on my hand.

The morning is chilly. But with the noon comes sun. The afternoon is warmer.

And I keep sitting there like a statue. I even feel like one. Empty, emotionless. I became numb to all the weather changes the day had brought.

I see Katherine in the distance. She walks over to me, sits next to me, but does not say a thing.

"Mother told me what happened," she says after few minutes of simply sitting next to me.

I was there for her when she lost Damon, I guess it's only fair of her to be there for me now. Katherine is the last person I would think is going to be my support.

I can still see the trail of the carriage in the ground.

"I guess there's only the two of us left," she says, patting my back.

The two of us, like it was in the beginning. Before Elena came into my life, before I even found a reason to admit to myself she's in love with my brother. Both of us more experienced now, each in their own way. Heartbroken equally, though.

I look at her and she's smiling at me, so I smile back. Or maybe I do not. I have no idea, I can't feel my face. I can't feel anything anymore.

"It's getting dark," she says, "We should go inside," she reaches her hand out towards me, and I put my hand in hers. I help her get up, and as I stand on my feet, I feel lighter.

I guess she took one part of me with herself as she went.

Katherine leads me into the house, and as we enter, I hide a floral napkin in my pocket, where it belongs.

Do you know how hard it is?

To walk in one direction when there's something inside you, trying to tear itself out of your body, wanting to lead you in a completely other direction.

Your mind is saying one thing, and your heart something completely different. But your mind is in charge over everything in your body, so you say, for the first time, no to your heart, and then it happens. You grow up a little bit.

And you're broken.

* * *

**AN: I'm sorry for the sadness, please do not kill me.**


	19. Chapter 19

**STEFAN'S POV**

_1890, 6 years later, New York_

I sit by the table of the ball room of some little, stuffy hotel in New York. I have no idea what in the name of God am I doing here. I have received an invitation and Jenna pointed out how good would it be to attend some social gathering.

I take another sip of my whiskey. I do not know which glass number this is, but it's already foggy before my eyes.

Truth to be told, it has been foggy before my eyes for the last six years. It can become really foggy even before I taste alcohol.

It has been tough since father passed away three years ago. I was barely getting the strings of adulthood when he left me alone with the whole estate to run. Thankfully, father always had his finances sorted out, so I did not have any problems in that area.

Father never spoke to Damon again, nor did he meet Amelia, Damon and Bonnie's daughter. He was stubborn about it even on his death bed.

After fathers death Damon was able to move back in the mansion. With his family, of course. It is a delight to have them there, the house seems more cheerful than it has been in years. I love spending time with little Amelia, especially since I never had children of my own.

I'm afraid Katherine has been to weak to bare a child.

I have managed to write a book after all. I guess that is what happens to men whose heart breaks so early in their life. They write books or poems or they drink themselves to death.

I guess me writing a book is a reason why I'm here today. All of a sudden, I became someone important, just because people admire my fantasy caused by the reality of my heart.

There hasn't been a day that I haven't thought about her. Where is she, what is she doing, is she happy? Her face was a repeating occurrence in my dreams, and I still have problems with trying to get rid of her smell from my nostrils. In the beginning it was especially hard, since everything in that house reminded me of her. I could see here everywhere, smell here everywhere, and in the midst of the night, I could even feel her.

I would lie awake at night and her face would flash before my eyes, followed by a light, delightful smile. And then my look would fall on Katherine, who was sleeping beside me, and a great amount of regret and shame would wash over me. And I would try to think about her a little less. Wish her little less, and dream about her less.

And after some time, I have succeeded. She never fully left me, but with time, I have accepted she's gone. And that she's never coming back.

I have tried to look for her, but father hasn't been so cooperative in my search. He did not support me, and he kept telling me I should simply let her go.

At the time I did not have many connections, so I did not know where to start looking. I did not know where she went, where she is now, all I had was a name. And unfortunately, that wasn't enough. And by the time I was in the position to find her, it would be of no use. I was married to another woman, and she was probably married to another man, maybe even with a child.

So I did what father asked me to do all those years ago, I had let her go.

The person, whoever it was, stopped talking about, whatever they were talking about, and now I'm standing in a circle, talking with some acquaintance, when I hear a high pitched voice yelling my name across the room. I would recognize that voice anywhere. It was Mr. Crowley, the man who had helped me publish my book. When I was younger he was working on our estate, taking care of the horses, until he moved to the city and opened his own enterprise.

"Mr. Salvatore," his voice was coming closer and closer to me, "There's someone I want to introduce you to," he said, making me wonder who that someone might be.

I step away from the circle of men I have been talking to and slowly turn around in the direction his voice was coming from. At first I can't see who he's dragging behind him, but after he moves his head I can see the other persons face clearly, and my eyes pop out.

"It can't be," I think to myself as they come closer to me.

Ah, but it can, I can see her clearly now. The angelic expression on her face, her skin as silky as it was six years ago, eyes big and glassy, chestnut hair tucked in under a hat, her collar bones still peeking out of her skin, her divine posture, dress falling around her waist perfectly. She does not look the day older she has been the last time I have seen her, but there is something different about her. She does not hold herself in a playful or childish manner anymore, she looks ladylike. I guess everyone have to grow up sooner or later, no matter how much they do not want to.

Our eyes meet from a distance and she smirks at me devilishly, and I realize some bits of her nature are still intact.

If we met six years ago, five, or maybe even three years ago, I would probably, without giving it a second thought, run across the room and take her in my arms. I believe she would do the same. But not now. It has been such a long time, and we're different people who lead different lives. We are not those two crazy kids who do not bother about opinions of others, because now, those opinions could affect us greatly.

Mr. Crowley stops in front of me, with Elena right behind him, her big eyes and smirk peeking under her hat.

Well I'll be damned.

"Mr. Salvatore," Mr. Crowley addresses me, all while trying to catch his breath, "I would like to introduce you to lovely Mrs. Donovan," he says, smiling at Elena, "She's a wife of one of my associates."

Mrs. Donovan. I have never thought of Elena being called like that. She has always been simply Elena to me. As he says her current name, something inside of my chest begins to sting.

I try to keep a smile on my face, though.

"Oh," I say to Mr. Crowley, "I know everything about Mrs. Donovan," the corner of my eye flies in her direction.

Mr. Crowley looks a bit confused as he looks at Elena.

She giggles. "Mr. Salvatore knows me since I have been Ms. Gilbert."

"We have history together," I continue with this word play, and my words only make her giggle harder.

"What a small world!" Mr. Crowley says through a laugh after dealing with his confusion.

I smile at him as I put my hand on his shoulder. "What a small world indeed!"

"I will leave the two of you to catch up, then," he smiles at us both and strolls in the direction of the group of men I have been talking to before I was interrupted.

"Are you in the mood for a drink?" I ask her like she's a stranger, because I can't help myself but wonder is she, deep inside, still the same girl she has been six years ago.

She raises her eyebrow in my direction. "Are you sure you need another drink? You already look like you had one too many," she says honestly, and her reply answers my previous question. She's still somewhere deep in there.

I clear my throat with a cough. "One more drink won't hurt," I say as I gesture the waiter to bring us two drinks. "Shall we?" I point at the empty table beside us.

"We shall," she smiles, and I pull out a chair for her to sit on as waiter puts two whiskeys on the table.

"I'm not sure a lady is supposed to drink," she frowns as she stirs her drink in the glass.

"I remember the times when you said you do not want to be a lady," I say through a chuckle by which I deserve a weary look from her, "Anyway, this is New York, I thought the rules here are different."

"They are," she sighs, "I simply do not want you to think poorly of me."

"I could never think poorly of you," I say instantly, looking straight forward, and not at her.

We sit together in silence, slowly sipping on our drinks. I order another one, then another one, and I'm on my fourth glass while she's still slowly sipping on her first one. I have always been able to sit in a pleasant silence with Elena. But this silence is different. It's awkward, it's suffocating, it's a slap across the cheek.

When the waiter brings me my fifth drink, I finally say, "So here you have been hiding," I raise my glass at her.

She nods, her serious expression still written over her face.

"Beautiful city," I mumble, even though I don't really think so. It's too big, too many people, no nature. It's too artificial.

"Stefan, you look like shit," she says honestly, but silently.

I smile, tearing my look away from her. "Not a very ladylike thing from you to say," I chuckle.

"Are you happy?" she asks, making me look at her.

Is she seriously asking me this?

"Well, I wrote a book," I smile at the achievement about which, once upon a time, I have thought will make me happier. Prouder. "So I guess there's that."

"Are you happy?" she repeats her question.

I look at her for a moment, gaze at her beautiful face before I say, "No," I take the last sip of my drink, "Not really."

As I prepare to order another drink she prevents me from doing so by pinning my hand on the table. Her touch makes me feel something I haven't felt in a very long time.

Alive.

"How is Bonnie?" she asks concerned, guilt visible all over her face, "And Damon?"

"They're good," I keep my eyes locked on hers, "They live with me. Bonnie had a girl. Amelia is her name. She's beautiful," I remember how much I miss my little niece at home.

"Do you have any children of your own?" she asks me, and I can't hide the sadness on my face as I shake my head no. "Are you married?" she asks another question.

"No," I tear my look away from hers. I could really go for another drink now. "Not anymore, anyway," I exhale loudly as I turn my head to look back at her. I have missed those eyes, more than I ever knew. "I married Katherine after all. But she got really sick. Tuberculosis. She passed away a year ago," my eyes fill with tears as I remember Katherine.

"Did you love her?" Elena asks.

"Yes," I say honestly. Because I really did. I really did come to love Katherine Pierce. She made a good wife, she was a pleasant company. She would seek a lot of attention, but that's one thing I was able to give her. We had our arguments, but mostly we spent our time together in peace. I loved her very much, but I never fell in love with her. I believe it was the same for her. She even thanked me for loving her on her death bed. And I loved her the best way I knew how. I tried to kiss her truthfully and make love to her like she's the only woman I have ever been with, and I gave my heart to her, and she thanked me, like it was my obligation. I told her it was my pleasure, loving her, and that there's not a person in the world I would rather call my wife than her. She knew that's a lie, but she did not say anything. That was a lie she was ready to enjoy.

"I'm sorry she's gone."

"Me too."

"How is Caroline?"

I smile at the thought of my best friend. "She married Tyler Lockwood. They have a son. I do not see her as often as I would like to, but she has her own life to lead now. I see her as often as her obligations allow her," I say sadly, because I really do miss Caroline's company. "And you?" I ask with a warm voice, "Are you happy?"

This time, she's the one who tears the look away. "I get by," she takes a sip of her drink. She's drinking awfully slow, so I guess she does not do it often.

"Do you still dance?" I ask her, and she lowers her head sadly, and by her gesture I already know what the answer is going to be.

"Rarely," I want to ask her more, but I decide not to push it.

"How about children?"

"No," she smiles sadly, "I'm afraid we're not able to have children. Matt earned himself an injury which left him impotent," she raises her head and looks back at me, "I was ready to adopt one of those poor children whose mothers have abandoned them, but Matt said he would not feed someones else child," she says painfully, "I think the real reason is that then people would know we cannot have children."

"But it is his fault," I say shocked. The man can't give her children, and then takes away her pleasure of having one some other way.

Elena laughs painfully, quietly. "Matt is too prideful," her eyes glimmer, "He would let people believe the problem is in me."

I continue looking at her in shock.

She keeps on looking at me before she blurts out, "Do you ever think about me?"

What a silly question. I smile at her, "I do not think a day passed by when I haven't thought about you."

A smile appears in the corners of her lips. She lowers her look on the table as she says, "We were just a couple of kids," she raises her look back up, "But we really loved each other, haven't we?" she asks me a question, but I think she already knows the answer to it. She knows it better than any of the words coming out of my mouth could tell. "I miss our nights together," a faint smile crosses her lips.

"Doesn't your husband make love to you, Mrs. Donovan?" I ask teasingly. I can feel that whiskey pouring itself in the core of my brain.

She looks at me seriously. "My husband sleeps with me," she says, and I can notice her hands shake on the table, "But he does not make love to me. Nor do I make love to him," her lips turn downwards, "I do not believe you can make love to someone you do not love."

She has a point, but then again, I was never in bed with someone I did not love. I maybe was not in love with Katherine, but I loved her, very much so.

"I have read your book."

"Oh?"

"Ms. Ellis reminds me of someone," she says cockily.

"Oh, does she now?" I chuckle.

She nods, still keeping a smile on her face. "But there's something about Mr. Sade that bugs me a lot," she raises her eyebrow at me.

I look at her, awaiting for her reply.

"He always wants to do the right thing," she says, clearly annoyed with that trait.

"Is that such a bad thing?" I ask.

"No, but you can't always do the right thing, you know?" she giggles, and then, her face becomes serious. Blush attacks her cheeks. "How about you, Mr. Salvatore? Are you going to do the right thing?" she puts her hand on mine.

My look falls on our hands, hers on top of mine, and something gets stuck in my throat.

"Concerning what?"

"As I see it, we have two options here. We can talk for a little while longer and then say our goodbyes. Or.." she caresses the top of my hand with her fingers.

"Or what?" I ask curiously.

"Or we can get the hell out of here and you can take me up to your room."

* * *

**AN: Thank you for the small amount of death threats I have received. It really is sad what happened to them, but I guess that's what happens. Life happens. And things that are worthy never come easy. Also, if there were no bumps, the ride would not be as half as fun.**


	20. Chapter 20

**STEFAN'S POV**

I tell Elena to wait in the lobby while I say my goodbyes to everyone in the room. I'm tired, I have to get going early in the morning, there's an awfully long ride home waiting for me, I'm afraid I have had one too many, I tell countless of lies, and few truths among many excuses. I tell Mr. Crowley Elena had to leave, she had places to be and things to do, and I excuse myself too. Everyone are so pleasant I almost feel bad for lying.

I meet Elena in the empty hotel lobby, and she's smiling at me as I walk into her direction. It's a little bit foggy before my eyes and my head is spinning and I feel like there's someone jumping on my brain and everything seems funny all of a sudden. But I'm perfectly aware of what's going on. I'm Stefan, and she's Elena, and she wants me to take her upstairs in that little, uncomfortable, stuffy hotel room, so I'm going to do it. And I'm going to kiss her over her whole body and we will make love until all the clocks in the world start going backwards.

I keep my look locked on her so I don't stumble and I wonder is that wide smile on her face product of alcohol attacking my brain.

When I finally reach her, I look around one more time, to make sure no one is watching, and I direct her towards the stairs. First floor, second room on the left. The key is in my pocket and my palms are sweaty all of a sudden. This is wrong.

"Stop," I say to myself quietly inside of my head, "Stop thinking about what's right and what's wrong. Stop thinking about what others might think, or what others might do. Stop thinking about what do they want you to do, and start doing what you want to do. You do not have to fill anyone's shoes but your own. The love of your life is standing next to you, asking you to make love to her. How can saying yes be wrong?" I yell inside of my head as I put the key into the lock and turn it.

I open the door, and as soon as we find ourselves behind them, she attacks my lips.

Her lips collide with mine, and my whole head is spinning a lot more than it used to a second before. Her lips still taste the same they used to so many years ago, and they're so inviting. So ripe, and so luscious. I can feel her tongue trying to separate my lips, so I let her. She's committing a crime I would gladly take fault for.

I put my hands on her waist and grip her hips with my fingers, pulling her close to me, and I can actually feel her smile as she violates my mouth. I feel dizzy, I'm trying to catch my breath because I feel like there is no air in my lungs, but at the same time I do not want our lips to part. I do not want to let go of her.

I'm afraid, if I open my eyes, I'll find out all of this has been a figment of my imagination. That she's not really here, and that my mind has been playing tricks on me.

Damn our human necessities. I can feel her hands on my chest, and she pushes me away from her. Her breath is heavy, and her cheeks are wine red. She looks tired, and I look relieved, because I finally realize all of this is reality. She's here.

I decide to provide her with a necessary rest, so instead of kissing her lips, I plant my kisses on her neck. Her smooth, swan like, vanilla flavored neck. I go down to her collar bones, and in between her bosom, and then back to her neck. She's still breathing heavily, and moaning silently. That moan is very well known to my ear.

"Elena?" I say her name in between my kisses, "Whose are you?"

She lets out some air in form of a light laugh, and as she puts her hands on my head and pulls her long fingers through my hair, she says, "Yours."

The corners of my lips curve into a smile as I plant few more kisses on her neck and she keeps holding her fingers in my hair, caressing my scalp.

"I'm yours," she repeats with a smokey voice, "I always have been and always will be," she puts her finger under my chin and makes me raise my head.

There's a devilish grin on her face, and by it, I can tell she's enjoying herself. She puts her hands on my chest and pushes me, making me stumble and fall on the bed.

Elena has always been free willed and wild, but back at the time, she was also shy and inexperienced when it comes to certain situations. But the woman standing in front of me is daring and aware of her abilities. She's playful and in control.

I make myself comfortable on my elbows as she puts her hands on her back and unties the bow of her dress. "You have no idea how long I have been praying for this," she says as she pushes the sleeves of her dress down her arms, and then making her whole dress fall on the ground.

She laughs playfully as she steps out of the dress. She starts pulling the strings of her corset, and I keep waiting, enjoying the show. And when she reaches the last string, she stops, eyeing me.

"Why did you stop?" I ask, disappoint obvious in my voice.

She must have caught it, since she laughs so sweetly. She bites her lower lip as she says, "Why don't you finish undressing me?"

**ELENA'S POV**

There's a grin on his face as he seats himself on the bed. I can feel alcohol in his breath, but I believe he knows what he's doing.

"Come here," he tells me.

I listen to him, and I start walking to him slowly, keeping his look on mine. He keeps on holding a smirk on his face. I pull my legs apart and sit on his lap. We keep looking at each other as he puts his fingers around the last string of my corset and unties it. The corset loosens itself on my body, and Stefan takes it in his hands and throws it on the floor. His look falls on my naked bosom, and he puts his hands on my bare back, pulls me closer to him, and his lips fall on my breasts.

He takes me by surprise, and his lips colliding with my skin attack my nerves. The ends of my nerves are flickering.

I let out a few silent moans. He makes me feel like a woman again. And I haven't really felt like one for a very long time, at least not in this area of my life. And it feels so good to feel like one again, and I know there's not a man in the world who can make me feel more like a woman than Stefan can.

I put my hands on the back of his neck and start playing with the ends of his hair as he keeps on kissing my breasts.

"Stefan," his name escapes my lips in a form of a moan. He raises his head from my bosom when he hears his name, and his eyes lock on mine. They're full of hunger and I can't deny the fact he's probably seeing the same when he looks into my eyes. Honestly, I hope he does. I hope he can see how much I want him. How much I need him. "I need you," I tell him with a serious face expression because I have a feeling I'm going to explode, "Now," I raise my voice a little.

There's a devilish grin on his face, like he knows how much I depend on him at this moment.

"Stand up," he says, and the way he gives orders amuses me.

I listen to him, because there's something attractive in the way he orders me around, and as soon as I do, he starts undressing me until I stand completely naked in front of him. There's an animal hunger in his eyes, he has a look of a predator who had seen his prey, but before he's able to do his attack, I start undressing him too. Finally, I push him back on the bed, and sit back on his lap.

When I feel him enter inside of me, I release one sweet, silent moan. I keep my eyes locked on his, and I start moving slowly in his lap as I bring my lips closer to his.

I do not kiss him at first, I let my lips linger in the air above his, and then few moments later I let them collide.

There's an explosion in my brain. I detach my lips from his and put my arms around his neck, like I'm hugging him, and bury my face in his shoulder. He puts his hands on my back and starts pulling his fingertip over my spine, sending delicious shivers down it.

His pace is faster now, and I can feel him deeper inside of me. Our chest are colliding as I keep grinding my body against his.

There's a spasm in my leg. My thighs are burning. My muscles are squeezing. I feel like there are waves crashing inside of my body.

"Stefan," I say his name into his skin.

But he does not say anything in return. He simply tightens his hold on me.

And then, there's an explosion. My whole body becomes stiff before it relaxes again. Like I'm made out of rubber. I feel like a puppet in his arms.

Finally, I smile into his skin as he caresses my back with his fingertips.

He slowly puts me on the bed, and I can see him smiling in my direction. I blush.

"What is it?" I ask, trying to cover myself up, but he stops me.

He starts trailing his finger over my leg, from my knee all the way too my thigh, "Nothing," he says with a smile on his face, "You're just so beautiful."

**STEFAN'S POV**

"Are you happy?" I ask her as she lies beside me.

She puts her hand on my cheek and smiles at me before she replies, "Immensely."

We keep kissing, rolling around in bed, and laughing all night long.

I planted a kiss on every inch of her body.

I do not know when we fell asleep, but I do know it was somewhere before the dawn.

When I woke up, I was dizzy. The whole room was spinning. But there was no trace of her.

No trace but the scent of her perfume, her fingertips burned on my skin, and a note on the pillow saying, _"Until we meet again."_

* * *

**AN: And there he goes, losing her all over again. Elena is very daring, but I do not think she's daring enough to leave her husband and take on a full time lover. I do not think she wants one, either, because after some time, both of them would start wishing more. So.. until they meet again.**

**Btw, I made a mistake in the last chapter, I wrote 1890 and it should write 1870. My apologies :)**


	21. Chapter 21

_3 years later, 1873, Mystic Falls_

**STEFAN'S POV**

Happiness is a fleeting thing, I have come to learn. It is as fragile as the wings of a butterfly, and it can be gone even before the said butterfly claps its wings.

Life never gives you what you ask for, because life likes to surprise you. It likes to throw curve balls at you, make you trip, skin your knees, and then get up and keep walking. When you feel brave enough again, you might even run, or jump.

Skinned knees are good. Scars are good. No matter if others can see them or not, as long as you can feel damps on your skin or inside of your chest, it means you're alive. It means you lived, and it means, once upon a time, you were brave enough to run so fast to fall and earn those scars in the first place.

Unfortunately, people only realize this when their life is soon to be over. When they're sitting in their armchair by the fire, moving their fingertip over one scar on their knee, thinking about how afraid they were to walk or run or jump after earning it, so they crawled. And it is hard to experience the beauty of the world when you're watching it from the under. So they keep touching the small bump on their knee, thinking about missed opportunities and chances they were too afraid to take. Moves they were too scared to make and all the people they were afraid to love.

All they're left with is series of images caused by choices which were not even theirs because they had only one road to crawl on.

I have none of those regrets. I experienced happiness, no matter how little lasting it was. I experienced excitement and love, and I have also experienced sadness and loss and despair. I know how it can cripple you, and how it is to feel empty. I have learned to live with that emptiness inside of me, and after some time, I got used to carrying it around with me.

I married. I had put my wife in the ground long before her time. I have a good relationship with my brother. I wrote a book. I successfully run an estate, something I knew nothing about before I was forced to learn.

I have left a mark on this world.

But the most important mark I have left is the fact I have loved someone with my whole heart. One thing I know I did right, one thing because of which I would run as fast as my legs carry me, no matter in how many walls I would crash in the process. For her, I would keep crashing into walls until I lose the last beat of my heart.

I have loved Elena Gilbert the best I knew how. I was just a boy. I tried to act like a man, I tried to pretend I'm one, for her, but I was just a scared little boy. I knew nothing. I did not even know what love was. I did not know love includes all the bad things too.

She made me realize it. She made me understand love is not only happiness and beautiful experiences, it's pain and loss as well. They make it sound so heavenly, love. When actually, it's the worst thing that can happen to a human being.

But we keep going back to it, every single time.

All the pain makes it seem so real, though. All the pain makes me believe what we had was real.

Because even now, after it ate me from the inside, I would still be hers if she ever asked me to be. Despite the fear she may walk out on me again, with or without her free will.

I was a boy who knew nothing about life, and she turned me into a man who would not give up his experiences for anything in the world.

Most of the men would give everything to have those unpleasant memories erased. And me? I relish in my pain in a way.

If I gave all the bad things away, I would have to give away all the good ones too. And I would never do that, not under any circumstances.

"Uncle Stefan!" I hear a very well know, childlike voice behind me. I turn around to see Amelia running into my direction.

Amelia is nine years old now, but she's much of a child as she was few years ago. Girls her age learn how to dance, and paint, and play piano, but not Amelia. Her father does not make her do anything she doesn't want to, and she would rather play and read whole day long, than learn how to be a lady. Bonnie is completely supportive of that upbringing too, and the only thing I care for is that she's happy.

"Amelia!" I exclaim her name as she puts her arms around my waist and hugs me tightly.

My niece is the closest thing I have to a daughter. Probably the closest thing I will ever have to having children of my own. I have always wanted a child, a son or a daughter, I really do not care. Katherine was pregnant two times, and she lost them early on in the pregnancy. She was too weak to bare a child, and she was incredibly sad because of it. She knew how much I want children, and she wanted them herself, too. After she lost the second child she got so depressed, and I concluded trying to have a baby is not worth her mental health. Soon after that she got sick and passed away.

So I spend as much time with Amelia as possible. I'm the one who used to read her bedtime stories, and who buys her books to this day.

"Where is your father?" I ask.

"With the horses," she replies happily. Amelia loves horses, she says she would like to ride them one day when she's older. "Me and mother went to get mail."

The next thing I hear is Bonnie's loud breathing. She is pregnant with their second child, and she's trying to catch her breath. I move to her, taking the mail out of her hands, and leading her towards the chair in the hall.

"You should not walk so far," I warn her. She is in her 7th month, and doctor said she should have as little physical activity as possible.

Bonnie glares at me. She doesn't like to be told what to do. I guess whole life of being ordered around does that to you. When her lungs fill with air again, she stands up, puts her arm around Amelia's shoulders and smiles at me, "There's some mail for you in there," she says before the two of them walk into the kitchen.

Bonnie is teaching Amelia cook, since she finds it appropriate. Every girl should know how to cook, because you never know where life will take you, and you do not want to go there hungry, is what Bonnie always says.

I look at the bunch of envelopes in my hands, and out of curiosity, pick out the one with my name written on it with black ink.

The handwriting seems awfully familiar.

I open it and pull out a little, folded piece of paper out of it.

_"Dear Stefan,_

_I'm in Mystic Falls. Meet me tomorrow at 10am sharp in that little pub on the corner near the market._

_Much love, Elena."_

And my heart goes up to my throat where it turns into glass, breaks, and cuts me from the inside.

**ELENA'S POV**

I see him walk into the pub. He's as handsome as ever. His messy sandy hair, piercing green eyes, like grass covered with dew drops in the early morning, perfect jaw that holds those kissable lips.

He looks so handsome in a suit. So grown up, but I can still see that boy in him, the boy I fell in love with.

The boy I still love. And the man that boy has turned into.

He notices me sitting by the table in the corner of a pub, and his eyes lock on mine. There's a faint smile on his face, smile I know very well, smile caused by relief of seeing my face in person again.

I worry I'm too old now. I worry he will not find me beautiful anymore. I worry he will not want me anymore.

I worry he fell in love with someone else.

He walks over to me and pulls out a chair. He sits on it, not tearing his look away from mine.

"Elena," he says my name with the same soft voice he always said my name with, "What are you doing here? Has something happened?" there's a confusion on his face as he asks worriedly.

I pull a small smile across my lips, and I feel like a bad person for doing so. Things that happened in my life few months ago are not a reason to smile. They're a reason to cry.

The smile instantly fades from my face because it stings my lips.

"Yes," I say sadly. Because I really am sad. I'm not a heartless monster.

He wants to reach for my hand over the table, I can see he does, but he doesn't dare to.

"What is it?" he asks worriedly. He sounds more worried than he did a minute ago, if that's even possible.

I swallow hard. "It's my husband," I say silently, and his eyes grow wider. I look around the pub. We're all alone. The local drunks went home only couple of hours ago, and there's no one decent who would be drinking at this time in the pub in the middle of the town. I know that, that's why I chose this place. I did not want to go to his house, and he can't go to my hotel room. Not yet. I turn my look back at him, and he's waiting patiently for my answer. "He passed away," I reply.

Stefan exhales, but it's not a meaningful one. I think he held his breath all this time. He slowly leans back on his chair and takes his eyes off me.

"How?" he asks.

"Does it matter?" I reply.

Stefan raises his look to me and furrows his brows. "Of course it matters," he spits out, and I feel ashamed under his stare.

"He was out drinking. Gambling. Whatever he did when he went out. Maybe found some whores even," I say, and Stefan instantly shots me a look. I blush. My husband hasn't slept in the same bed with me for more than three years. He would rather sleep with whores than with me.

But according to him, I was no better than them.

"We were living in such bad conditions. He spent all of our money. All of my money," I say as I remember how easily he blew my inheritance away.

"Why did you not tell me?" he asks me, "I would give you money," he says in such a sad voice, like he's feeling sorry for me.

Poor little Elena.

"And how would I explain the money?" I cock my eyebrow in his direction.

He huffs and shakes his head. "Men like that never ask, as long as they have it," he says with a certain amount of disgust in his voice.

I lower my look in shame. "Anyway," I continue quietly, even though there's not anyone around to hear us, "He owed some money to some people. Gambling debts. There was a fight," I raise my look only to meet Stefan's concerned one, "It was an accident, is all the police said."

This time he reaches for my hand over the table and takes it into his. His skin on mine is like my safe haven, his touch feels like home and all of a sudden I feel safe, like nothing can hurt me and like everything will be fine. "Elena, are you okay?" he asks with a genuine concern.

I know what he's getting at. He wants to know have they bothered me because of my husbands stupidity. "I'm fine, Stefan," I smile at him, and as soon as I say those words I wish I have lied, because he pulls his hand away from mine.

He leans back on his chair, and there's this look in his eyes. I know what he's thinking - what does this all mean for us?

"How are you here?" he asks me.

"What do you mean?" I ask confused.

"How did his family allow you to come here? What was your excuse?"

"His family?" Now I'm more confused than before.

He glares at me. "You are apart of their family now. I can't imagine they would leave you all alone after his death."

I chuckle loudly. "The only reason why they wanted me in the first place is because of my money. The money is gone now, therefor they do not need me anymore. I'm free to do whatever I want," I tell him significantly, and he can't help but smile.

His smile fades away quickly, though. I know what's bothering him. All of this sounds too perfect to be true.

He puts his palms over his face and rubs his eyelids with his fingertips.

"Is there anything new in your life?" I ask curiously.

He removes his hands from his face and looks at me confused before he pulls a wide smile across his face. "No beautiful," he calls me by his nickname for me and I blush. It's been a while since someone told me I'm beautiful. Three years to be exact, the last time we met. When we made love. "There's nothing new in my life," he shakes his head. "Is there anything new with you?" he asks me before he realizes how silly his question sounds, so his corrects himself, "Apart from what you have told me now."

So, here it goes I guess. The truth that will sting him more than thousand of lies ever could.

Telling him about Matt's death was easy, this is the hard part.

"Actually, yes," I lower my look because I'm too afraid of his.

"Oh?" is all he says.

I inhale deeply before I raise my head to look at him. "I have a daughter."

He looks at me in disbelief. I can see it in his eyes, how unfair he thinks it is, that I have a daughter with a man I never even loved, and he's left with none.

**STEFAN'S POV**

She has a child.

A daughter, nevertheless.

If she's anything like her mother, I already love her.

I try to hide the fact how much her words had hurt me. Because it was supposed to be us. That was supposed to be our daughter. Not the child she shares with a man whose company she never even enjoyed.

She told me he's impotent.

"She's two years old," Elena says before I even have a chance to regard her previous statement about her husband apparently being impotent.

I do not understand why is she telling me how old her child is.

There's confusion on my face.

She shakes her head before she stops and locks her look directly on mine. "Stefan, I do not think you understood me," she says, "We have a daughter."

* * *

**AN: Uhoh, some secrets are not supposed to be kept, Elena. How will Stefan react to Elena lying to him all these years?**

**Oh, by the way, one extremely talented vidder made a trailer to my story, so check it out here! **

watch?v=UMf_70_ATeI&list=LL1cEFoFkkTQ1aY6yeFiDDtg&feature=mh_lolz


	22. Chapter 22

**STEFAN'S POV**

I lean back on my chair. There's a buzzing sound inside of my ears. I can see her lips parting, so I conclude she's calling my name, but by the time the sound of her voice comes to my ears, it turns into a drumming noise. It is foggy inside of my head, my brain hurts like someone is stinging needles inside of it, and I want to tear my ears of my head so this beating inside of it would stop.

I look into her eyes, and fear is written all over her face. Fear, and expectation. She's breathing heavily, and she looks like there's something stuck inside of her throat.

And I'm speechless. Have I heard her right? Her daughter is our daughter? We have a child? I have a child?

I have no idea how to react, I am speechless. I look at her, at the woman I love, and in this moment she seems like the worst monster I have ever seen. She's patiently awaiting my reaction, and I have nothing to give her. Nothing but this emptiness I feel myself.

There's only one question that comes to my mind, and it pours down my lips unwillingly. "How do you know it's mine?" I hold my look on hers.

I would never ask her this question, but she was married, and when you're in a marriage, there are certain things that husbands find obligatory, and that is sleeping together. Even if Matt did not love her, she's an attractive woman, and I can't see why he wouldn't want her in his bed.

I hope she will not get mad at me for asking the question. It was never my intention to offend her.

She lowers her head in shame. "Because it has been three and half years since I slept in the same bed with him," I can see her bite her lower lip, "And we were together three years ago."

"Two years, ten months and seven days, to be precise," I say with a husky voice.

She raises her head instantly and shoots me a look before a smile creeps on her face.

Still baffled by her words, while trying to put two and two together, I ask, "How did you manage to get away with it?" I lean on the table, "You told me he is impotent, he must have known you have been with someone else," I raise my voice a little, and by the look on her face I realize I sounded a little bit more accusatory than I wanted to.

"He knew I was with you," she says silently, her lips shaking.

I can feel anger build up inside of me, and I do not know why I'm angry in the first place. Maybe I'm angry at her, at myself, at life. So many possibilities.

"So how did he let you stay then?" I raise my voice and bump my fist against the table, slightly, and not at all loud, but she still jumps on her chair a little.

I do not understand, and I want to. I want to understand why would a man help raise another's man baby with a woman he only exploited for money.

"I was hoping he wouldn't," she cries out, "I was hoping he would kick me out of the house so I can come back to you," her whole body is shaking by now, and all I want to do is take her in my arms and tell her everything is going to be okay. I want to calm her down. But what my heart wants to do and what my mind wants to do are two completely contradictory things, and unfortunately, my mind is the one controlling my body and my actions, so I continue sitting there, watching the woman I love shake in fear.

I have never felt less of a man than I do now.

"Hoping?" something gets stuck inside of my throat. I lean more on the table. "Elena," I say her name carefully, but through my teeth, "Did you know you're going to get pregnant?" I ask her.

Something flashes in her eyes - guilt. I inhale deeply, preparing myself for her answer. She looks down and lets out one more desperate cry.

"I knew there was a big chance of getting pregnant," she says silently, almost like she's ashamed of her words, and something slashes inside of my chest. "I was so lonely, Stefan. You have no idea how much. I have missed you so much and when I saw you again, knowing I can't keep you.. I simply wanted to keep one part of you," she starts sobbing and trying to catch her breath in between her sobs.

Something squeezes inside of my chest. I look at her, and I have a feeling I do not even know the woman sitting across me. I can't recognize her. "Elena, do you know how selfish that makes you sound?" I hiss through my teeth, making her shake more than she already is. "I have a child, and you took away two years of her life away from me," I accuse her, which only makes her cry more.

Tears flood her face, her eyes are puffy and cheeks more red than I've ever seen them before, and it's killing me I'm doing this to here. It's killing me she did this to me. She should have told me. She should have told me she wants out, that she has enough courage to actually end her marriage. I never thought she would put herself in such a position, nor did I ever want to put her there. Divorce is a synonym for social suicide. But if she had enough courage to do it, I would have stayed by her side through anything. I would be an extra set of arms and legs.

"We can have more babies," she says desperately, but quietly, "We can have as much as we want," she says the word _we_ a little bit louder than the rest of the sentence, trying to point out there's finally us. We can be we in every sense of the world.

A little smile creeps on my face because that sounds wonderful. Having a family with her is all I ever wanted. "Don't you get it?" I ask her, a little bit calmer this time, "Nothing we do can bring the lost time back to us."

She looks at me, losing all of her courage and strength and hope, and she leans back on the chair. She sits there like she was made out of rubber, taking an almost lifeless form.

She looks like someone had sucked all of the air out of her lungs, taking the beautiful color of her cheeks away. Taking her life away.

I keep glaring at her, waiting for her to make another move, to say something, anything, but she doesn't.

"Did he hurt you?" I ask with a tired voice, "Or her?" something gets stuck in my throat. I'm still getting used to the fact I have a daughter. A daughter whose name I do not even know, a daughter who I never met. "Because she wasn't his?" or because both of them weren't.

Elena shakes her head slowly. "He mostly ignored us," she locks her eyes on mine, "He was never home much, anyway. He wanted to kick us out, but his father was more worried than anyone about what people would think of them when they find out. Like people did not already talk," she lets out a light laugh before her face becomes all serious again, "She's yours, you know. On all the papers," she tilts her head.

Confusion washes all over my face. "What?" I ask her.

"One thing Matt refused to do is put his name on a child that was not his, and I had to write something, because they told me leaving an empty space on the line where fathers name is supposed to be is unheard of," she looks at me, almost warmly, "So Matt's father told me the best thing to do is to write the name of the real father, and he will keep the people who have access to the papers stay quiet. I have no idea what he did, but in two years, no one ever found out," she says calmly.

I stay quiet, and I keep looking at her. I do not know what to say. Such a weird thing for a writer. We have all of these words in our head, but when the time comes we can't seem to think of any.

"Stefan," she says my name sweetly, melodically, the way she used to, the only way she knows how, "Would you like to see her?"

**ELENA'S POV**

I stayed in a small, quaint hotel on the edge of the town. It is not the best place to stay in, especially with a child, but it's the best I could afford. Matt spent everything, to the last penny, mostly in gambling. I barely had enough money to come from New York to Mystic Falls, so I knew I cannot be picky when it came to our place of staying. It's only for a couple of days, anyway.

I know Stefan is not going to abandon his own child. I know he's not going to abandon me either. I do fear he will no longer want me. I fear that my actions made me look so bad in his eyes, that every time he sees me from now on, he will see a monster with a face of the woman he once loved.

And I do not think I would be able to live in the same house as Stefan without having him. I am hungry for him in every sense of the word. I'm hungry for his body and for his soul, and without him, I feel empty. I thought having a child will make things better, but it only made things worse. I love my daughter, she's the most precious thing I have in this world, something I helped in creating. She's a part of me, and I love her immensely. But she's also a part of Stefan, and whenever I would look at her, she would only remind me of him. She was a constant reminder he was once mine, and then, he wasn't.

I walk through the empty hotel corridors with Nessa in my arms. She's playing with the ends of my hair, smiling at me. She has a beautiful smile, so soft, so innocent, almost angelic. I have left her with the housekeeper, who has three children of her own, when I went to meet Stefan. Taking her with me would be too big of a shock, I knew I have to inform him of her existence before he actually sees her.

It was never supposed to be like this. Our lives, they were never supposed to be like this. I was supposed to stay pregnant, Matt was supposed to make me leave, and I was supposed to go to Stefan. We were supposed to be a family, and live together as one.

We were supposed to live our lives the way we wanted to, not they way others had told us we have to. We would make love every night, and we would sleep in the same bed our whole lives, we would have a house full of children who would grow up free, grow up how they want to, now how society tells them they should. We were supposed to live our dream, not the raw reality.

I stand in front of my bedroom door when I reach my room. I inhale deeply, and something in my chest tightens. "Here we go, Nessa," I tell my daughter, kissing the top of her head, "Are you ready to meet you father?" I flicker my finger over the top of her little nose, and she smiles up at me. She releases a happy sound, something similar to a laughter, and I wonder can she understand me. Does she know what's going on?

I put my hand on the doorknob and turn it around before the door open. I push them wide open and enter the room. When I do so, Stefan's back is turned to us. Nessa's look falls on the unknown man standing in the middle of our room, and I expect her to cry, or at least whimper, but she doesn't. She only keeps eyeing him curiously, until he finally turns around, like he can feel her look on himself.

He looks at me, only shortly, because soon enough his look falls on our daughter. I smile inside of my head as I think the words _our daughter_. Of course, I have always thought of Stefan as her father, but now when he's in such close proximity of her, it all seems much more real.

He makes few steps in our direction with a serious expression on his face, and for a moment I'm afraid he's going to scare Nessa. He stands before us, his look locked on Nessa the whole time, and she's looking up at him without making a sound.

Finally, he pulls a wide smile across his face as he looks up at me and says, "She has my mothers eyes."

He lowers his look back down on the baby in my arms, and slowly, carefully, softly, he touches her little hand with his finger. His smile grows wider as his skin comes in contact with hers, and Nessa looks down on Stefan's finger touching her hand. She keeps eyeing it for quite some time before she uses her other hand to wrap it around Stefan's finger. She releases one more of those laughter kind sounds as her little fingers wrap around Stefan's.

He stretches out his hands and looks up at me, asking me, "May I?"

Such a funny thing, asking me can he hold his own child. Nessa makes an angry sound when Stefan pulls his finger away from her.

"Of course," I smile at him as I detach her from myself and put her in his arms.

She sits on his arm, and he holds his open palm on her hand, and Nessa keeps her eyes locked on his face, studying him. After all, he is unknown to her, and it was different playing with him from the safe distance while she was in her mothers embrace. Stefan lets her examine him, and once she does, her hand flies to his face and her little fingers land on his nose, and she laughs.

I sigh in relief.

"She is usually not so welcoming to strangers," I say to him sweetly.

He keeps on playing with her, a smile wide on his face. She's laughing, the loudest I've heard her laugh, squeezing his nose, poking his cheeks, and he's watching her playfully. "I'm not a stranger," he says, "I'm her father."

**STEFAN'S POV**

There's a bundle of chestnut brown hair on her head, at places colored by the color of wheat, mostly by the ends of her small locks which are hanging next to her ears. Her eyebrows are barely visible, two light lines gravitating above her beautiful eyes. Those beautiful, pure, green leaf colored eyes glimmering on her face. Her little nose, and strawberry lips. Red cheeks, just like her mothers.

"What is her name?" I ask, not moving my look away from my daughter, who is still tapping on my face with her fingers and smiling.

"Vanessa," I hear Elena's voice, "I call her Nessa, though."

She chose a beautiful name. "Nessa," I repeat it, and she raises her look to my eye level and pulls a wide smile across her face.

"So," I say a little bit awkwardly, looking at the most beautiful baby I have ever seen, and I'm not only saying this because she's mine, "Do you think her room should be near ours?" I can feel Elena's look on me, and I want to look at her, but I can't seem to detach mine from Nessa. "We have to buy some things, like a crib, and a stroller, and," I gasp enthusiastically, making Nessa look at me, "Some toys," she smiles, clapping her palms one of another.

I finally manage to raise my look to look at Elena who's staring at me.

God, she's beautiful. I almost forgot how beautiful she truly is.

"You forgive me," she asks hopefully.

I look at our daughter, then back at her, and smile, "How could I not?"

* * *

**AN: Next chapter will be an epilogue, and it will also be the last chapter.**


	23. Chapter 23

**EPILOGUE**

In life, you have two choices. You can choose to believe everything happens for a reason, that every move you make is strategically planned by something bigger than us, making our lives fit into some greater design, or you can choose to believe you're the tailor of your own future. That your actions are the product of your own mind, and that they do not depend on anyone or anything.

People are free to believe whatever they want to believe in, and lead their lives however they want to, because we will not know the truth until we come to the place where there's no one to tell. Place where we're unable to tell anyone. Place between reality in dreams, where we still feel lucid enough to know we're here, but maybe a little bit more tired that we fill like all of this is a product of our imagination.

Dead can't talk, and sometimes, living shouldn't.

No matter how we choose to live our lives, no matter what we choose to believe in, we better do it the best we know how. We better live our lives to the fullest, because no one will do it for us.

No one will take the ropes of our life in their hands, and direct us in the right way. If people take us under their wing, we become their slaves, and with that, we lose our right to choose, and our right to decide how we want to live our life. We lose the luxury of dreaming and believing into certain things, and once we're gone, no one will remember we existed in the first place. Because we weren't really there. We were physically present, but we had no purpose.

Life is a series of impact. It's a moving picture, and we can rewind life, sometimes we can even fast forward it, but once it's made, there's really nothing we can do. There are no changes we can make, we can only sit quietly and watch it unfold before our eyes. Our mistakes, and all the good things we did. Our tears and smiles, every thought we had and every word we said. So it's important to participate. To be there at any given moment and leave our mark. Say something or think something, maybe even do something, because change is only possible in the present. No matter what we choose to believe in, we have to participate, because even if every one of our moves is planned, we still have to make it. Our actions collide with actions of others, and sometimes our lives intertwine with theirs, and because of it we can't always get what we wanted, and things can't always turn out the way we would like them to.

Sometimes that happens to be better, because people happen to want the wrong things, and they only realize it when they see how unhappy they still are once they get it.

Life is full of love, happiness, excitement, surprise, ecstasy. But it's also full of sadness, anger, fear and sometimes even dullness. You have to know the one to know the other. Life is a big, contradictory mess, and all you can do is be as messy and contradictory as life itself.

There are people who make wrong decisions for the sake of making them, and there are people who make wrong decisions without realizing they're doing so. Some people do the same with right decisions, and then there are those who make them because that's the only thing they know how.

People say the word changes too fast. It doesn't. People simply change too slow. Or they don't change at all. Deep down they were like this twenty years ago, and they're going to be the same twenty years from now. Still fighting the common enemy without realizing they themselves are the biggest enemy they have.

They're sending young men to war with no cause, and making young women keep their mouth shut because they're too scared of what they have to say. Making them lead a life full of regrets because of things they were too afraid to do and words that stayed unspoken because they were too afraid to say them.

World keeps on spinning, but people keep standing in place. Some of them decide to walk to catch up with the world, and some even decide to run so they could be in front of it, but some are too stubborn to do either, so once the world turns upside down, they fall.

And then there's love, most contradictory feeling out of them all. Something you can't even prove it exists, but yet, so many wars were led because of it, and so many of men have died in its name.

Stefan always believed in love, even when he did not understand it. Even when he could not recognize it, or know does he feel it or not. Love was a big part of his life, even when there was a lack of it. He read about it, dreamed about it, thought about it, and when he finally started living it, he realized it's not as beautiful as he thought it will be.

But the thing is, he never backed down. Even when it seemed impossible, even when he himself believed it is. Even when everything seemed to be said and done, there was still a glimmer of hope in his eyes telling him to never give up.

And he never did. He never gave up on love, because giving up on it would mean giving up on himself. It would mean letting her go in every way possible, and letting it go all the way is something no one should do. Because it leaves you empty, and hopeless, and in despair. It makes you turn into a big icy rock that can't even melt in the middle of a desert.

In the end, that's what love is. Never giving up, and never letting go. And that's the least any of us can do.

Elena gave up on everything so fast. She had no will, and no hope, she thought there wasn't anything out there because of which she should continue her life. And then she met Stefan and everything turned around. Everything she thought she knew and everything she believed in fell into water, and she never looked back for it. She never asked for it, nor did she cry for the things she had lost, because what was in front of her was much better than what she left behind.

Stefan did not change her. People cannot change people, but people can change because of people. Others may inspire them to reach for more, to believe in something more and something better, which instantly makes them better people. Stefan had enough love for them both until she had let herself love him back. Until she had let herself realize she does love him back.

And once she did, she had never let it go. She had never let him go.

Both of them made a lot of mistakes, one more than the other. They also did a lot of good things too. Life threw them a couple of curveballs, some bigger than the others, and there were times when both of them tripped down the road. But they got up, and they continued walking. At times, even running.

That's the whole point. Love had beaten fear.

They had something people write books about. Or at least something people should write books about. Their love was a sweetest melody and best composed song, or a book you refuse to close once you finish reading it because you do not want it to end.

"Papa!" now five year old Nessa runs into Stefan's direction as he gets out of the carriage. Sometimes work pulls him away far away from home, even though he tries for it to happen rarely because he hates leaving his family behind, even if two days are in stake. And to Nessa, when he's out of the house, it seems like he has been gone for a lifetime.

She runs into Stefan and he greets her with arms wide open, lifting her from the ground as her arms fall around his neck. They say there's a special bond parents share with their first born, which Stefan always thinks of when he remembers, if circumstances were different, he would not have her in his life right now. She would be someone else's daughter.

"Papa, you're home!" she yells as she detaches herself from him, looking at him with her big, shimmering green eyes, the ones she had inherited from him. Big, dark brown locks are hanging near her cheeks, the color of wheat barely visible on them now. She's dressed into a beautiful dress with a big bow on her back, reminding everyone she's her mothers daughter.

Elena tends to say how much their daughter reminds her of herself in that age, which makes Stefan very happy because he had finally gotten a chance to know the side of Elena he never got to meet.

"Yes, I am beautiful," he kisses her cheek as he puts her on the ground.

"What about me?" he hears Elena's voice as he puts their daughter down, "Don't I get a kiss?" she taunts him.

Stefan smiles in her direction and walks over to her, putting his hands on her waist and pulling her closer to him, "You get two kisses. One for you," he says before he gives her a peck on the lips, "And one for the baby," he gives her another peck before he looks down at Elena's pregnant belly.

They hear Nessa giggle behind them. "Papa, you know what Valerie did yesterday?" she asks through a giggle, still confident she's getting a baby sister for who she already picked out the name.

Stefan looks at his daughter expectantly while she swings left and right with her hands behind her back. "She kicked mommy in the stomach," Nessa giggled as Stefan looked back at Elena who was smiling into his direction.

After everything, they got to be a family. After all the mistakes, and tears, and years spent apart, they finally got a chance to spend the rest of their lives together. And they did not care who knew. They did not care who knew about their past, about all of the things they have done.

Because some things are too good to be kept as a secret.

* * *

**AN: And here we are, at the end. Thanks to everyone who were reading this story and commenting on it, it was really nice to know you guys enjoyed reading it, and I really, really enjoyed writing it :) You guys are the best!**


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